Simon Says
by Punny GEM
Summary: SG-1 steps through the Stargate...and into the heat of an unexpected battle. Jack is injured and enslaved, but when rescuers come, he raises the alarm. What would make him do that? Will the SGC send another rescue team to find out, or is he on his own?
1. Turnabout and Unfair Play

Jack O'Neill strode up the ramp toward the Stargate, noticing the silence that always fell as the team prepared for the trip through the technological miracle that would send them to another planet in a matter of moments. His team was long past being disoriented by the wild rollercoaster effect, but the simple awe of being on another world had not worn off. He hoped it never would. His eyes widened with pleasant anticipation as he reached the glowing blue surface of the wormhole. _One small step for man, one giant leap --_

"DOWN!" He screamed it, even as he took his own order and dove to avoid the crossfire clouding the air. He activated the radio on his shoulder with his chin, knowing the SGC would hear the word and the unmistakable sound of a warzone. His team had been right behind him, and there was little chance that they'd get the message in time to stay home -- not that they would, knowing their teammate was already under fire. But he had to warn the SGC. No one was expecting this; the now-burning MALP had gone through less than an hour ago and had shown an innocent pastoral scene, flowery field with a picturesque path winding away into the nearby woods. No time now to wonder how the greeting-card-worthy landscape had turned into a blazing battle in the minutes since.

"Enemies all around...battalion at least...no cover..." He automatically reported back to the SGC, bellowing to be heard over the screech of alien weapons fire even as he squirmed forward and left, pushing his own P-90 in front of him. He fired wildly, hoping that the deeper baritone of his weapon would make the enemy pause long enough for his team to not be caught standing upright in front of the gate. They would be easy enough targets lying down on the flat dais that held nothing other than the Stargate and themselves; standing up they'd have no chance. It worked; there was a sudden drop in sound and the fighters around the gate dropped back in separate waves. "Two factions at least...gate surrounded...possible artillery coming over hill..." he continued his report, knowing he was effectively telling Hammond and the SGC not to send reinforcements into this hopeless situation. They could never muster enough men in time to fight a battle this size.

He felt someone bump his right leg, but didn't dare look away from the enemy to check who it was. He had to trust his impression that the body was actively diving and not bonelessly collapsing. The Stargate closed with a whump that was barely audible over the renewed fighting. Teal'c slithered into view next to him, and he risked a glance back for the others. Carter was furthest away, sliding on her belly at an angle to the right that would get her out of range of the Stargate's flush when it reopened. There was an open flak-jacket across her lower torso and upper legs -- the guards in the gate room must have tossed theirs through to try to help. Daniel was between her and Teal'c, face screwed up in what Jack hoped was concentration and not pain from an injury. He, too, was blanketed by an open flak-jacket.

Jack realized they were dragging something. His ammo was nearly out; he spent the last of the clip and reloaded without looking at his hands, as he twisted to see what they had. He smiled. General Hammond would not have let the guards charge through into a warzone, but he did what he could. They'd done an emergency dismount of the machine gun that usually sat unobtrusively on its tripod in the corner of the gateroom and sent that.

Carter and Daniel pulled it forward, and she set to work prepping it. A practiced team could have it ready in 42 seconds; unrehearsed and under fire, she would probably need two minutes at least. Jack turned back to his own job, which was now buying her time. He, Teal'c, and Daniel fired rapidly at the closest fighters, trying to push them back. They returned the favor, of course. And they noticed Carter and her big black device. If the enemy factions had not been diverted by one another, the four people on the platform would have been shredded in seconds. Fortunately, the two sides spent most of their time firing at each other.

Jack, with his left side exposed, took a hit in the flank that knocked the breath out of him. He almost lost hold of his weapon. At least they were firing projectiles instead of energy weapons, he thought grimly. And aiming at the torso, which was sensible if you didn't know the enemy had the advantage of armor vests.

Jack heard a yelp in his earpiece, too high pitched to be the men on the team, and glanced over when he could. Carter had been hit, she lay half on her side to press her right arm under her body as she struggled to ready the machine gun. As he watched, Daniel frog-hopped and landed atop her, trying to protect her body with his own.

"No!" Jack and Teal'c both yelled. Valiant it may be, but it also raised him up all the more. Before they even finished the single syllable, Daniel, too, had been hit. He collapsed across his teammate. Teal'c pushed Daniel off of Carter, onto her far side where he could still shield her and the big gun. The archaeologist convulsed briefly, curling around his own weapon as pain flared, then straightened and began grimly to fire again.

Carter finished, and a hail of bullets erupted from the machine gun. The enemy fell back, startled by the new development. Jack took the moment and began to scuttle towards the Dial-Home Device. Once he got to it, he could activate the Stargate and give them a path back home. He risked one glance back to ensure the others were angled enough to be safe from the wormhole's destructive flush.

Whoever these guys were, they were not stupid. They fell back away from the front and from Carter's side of the platform. But they also took the chance that she could not fire over Teal'c and they massed on his side of the platform.

The big man did his best, but with Jack now on the way to the DHD, he had no cover whatsoever on his left side, and was quickly hit in the legs and vest. All three continued firing, and the men started squirming backward so Carter could aim over a wider arc. She swept from side to side, keeping a large area free of enemy fighters. For whatever reason -- perhaps they thought he was running away, or maybe they were just more concerned with the firepower still on the platform -- there was little fire at Jack as he scrambled to the DHD. He reached up and started punching the symbols on it as fast as he could.

That definitely got their attention. He hugged the DHD, trying to use it as cover as alien bullets zinged past. The sixth symbol was near the top of the device. He pushed up on one leg to stretch for it, apparently losing the shelter of the DHD stand as he did. Something promptly ripped through his calf, making him fall. He paused long enough to blast a quick volley from his weapon, then gritted his teeth and pulled himself up -- he had to get that button. He cursed as the sharpshooter grazed his shoulder, and his hand jerked off the mark. It would be just too cruel to get this close and fail! He lunged forward, determined to finish, slapping the sixth and seventh symbols before his nemesis winged him in the same arm again. Fortune was on his side this time; when the bullet made him jerk, his nose smashed squarely down in the center of the device, providing the final signal.

The Stargate activated, it's blue flush never seeming so beautiful. Jack hurried back to his team as best he could with one leg and one arm damaged. Carter continued to lay down cover fire. Teal'c was waving Daniel through. Jack made it to Carter's side. He rolled on one side, grabbing the gun and trying to slide it toward the gate as she continued to fire. With his injuries, he could barely move it. He motioned and she switched activities with him. He fired, and she rolled three-quarters over and pulled with her legs and good arm. A foot at a time toward the gate and safety. Suddenly she moved faster, and he realized Teal'c must have grabbed her ankles.

Almost there! They were going to survive this hell-hole after all! He motioned Teal'c and Carter through while he kept firing. He wasn't sure whether he could keep firing if he was partly in the wormhole, but he did know the enemy could keep shooting the part of him that was still on their side. He kept himself completely on-planet as the others slithered to safety. As soon as they were gone, he'd back through, and they'd all be safe. Teal'c disappeared, then Carter was slipping through. When only her head and arms remained, Jack turned to follow.

It was a critical mistake. His shoulder moved higher than the gun, and was promptly hit again. He tumbled backward, away from the gate. The last thing he saw was Carter screaming, reaching desperately for any part of him, clawing as if she would come back for him.

_Can't do that, _he thought as he drifted toward unconsciousness._ Wormholes are only one-way, and once you're in, you're in. You're the scientist, you should know that._

oOo

The tiny unmanned UAV plane zoomed through the wormhole the moment it opened. It shot high up into the sky on the other side, sending back confirmation that the battle still boiled around the gate. One circle to photograph all angles, then it switched to its secondary task. It swept low over the nearby woods, seeming to drop greenish spider webs in the treetops. The webbing caught in the branches, and the small cameras they held switched on. Weighted to be heavier on the lens side, gravity caused them to swing downward. Several showed the ground with fighters behind every tree, and a few hit branches and gave angled shots toward the main fighting or through the woods. Two were trapped facing up into the sky, and showed the UAV moving on to its third and final task; it deployed weather balloons to float high above where it could use minimal power to stay in the vicinity of the gate and provide radio contact.

oOo

General Hammond stood somberly in the control room as they opened the gate yet again. It had been two Earth days now, and each time they checked the cameras in the trees showed the battle continuing, day and night. They had also given evidence that both sides took live prisoners, marching or dragging them off through the woods, and raising hopes that Colonel O'Neill was alive. The UAV, with its high vantage point, showed two cities near the gate, separated by the woods.

They would just have to keep trying, waiting for a break in the action. He had two teams ready on alternate shifts; when they finally opened the gate to a break in the action, the one on duty would be ready to go through immediately.

oOo

Keyna sat on his raised chair and watched as the fourth of the six prisoners allocated to him was taken away. There had been a time when he would have been given twenty or more after a significant battle. He was still the best trainer -- no other could convert a former enemy soldier into an obedient slave as quickly as he -- but the Forever Feud was taking its toll on both sides and the numbers were just not what they used to be. Nor was the quality. The one just removed was little more than a boy, and terrified; his spirit was half-broken already. It would not take much to crush him entirely, ready for re-building into a useful Mayra. Mayra, or Mayree in the plural, meant more than just 'slave,' it defined the former person as less than fully human, and helped to prevent the masters from sympathizing too much with a pitiful or pretty one.

He straightened as the door opened. Number Five might be at least a little more of a challenge. After finding themselves healed and captive, most huddled in despair as the realization sunk in that they were now Mayree. Some wept, or tried to take their own lives. This one had actually tried to escape the compound. He was being brought here immediately after his correction, so that Keyna could assess his reaction. For maximum effectiveness, a good trainer fit the lessons to the specific Mayra, and with the lower volume Keyna had time to be a very good trainer to each of his wards. If this one were cowed by physical pain, like the boy just taken away, that would be his assigned punishment for any failure. If not, then something else would be found. Every Mayra had something he would work very hard to avoid, and Keyna prided himself on finding the key to each one.

He viewed his new Mayra slave dispassionately. Clearly, he still had spirit. Even now, pinned by the enforcers who had just chastised him, bleeding and breathless, he glared defiantly up at his master.

So. This one liked a fight. Then he would have none. Keyna was not one to give a Mayra anything it wanted before it was earned. Perhaps the frustration and humiliation of being made to obey without physical force would speed this one's acceptance of his new status.

Keyna rose, noting that his imposing height atop the dais did not intimidate the Mayra, then moved with deliberate and threatening slowness down the three steps and across the short distance between them. He stepped close to the Mayra. He reached out a hand and the Mayra reared back his head, staring at him balefully. A bit of blood trickled down his face, adding to his fierce look. Keyna considered, then decided this Mayra would not be given even the _appearance_ of having resisted his new master. The other Mayree, all of whom instinctively resisted their capture and training, would mock him for his weakness. It would be quite amusing, and rejection by his new peers might also help to break this one.

He gave a brief order, and another Mayra scurried out, returning shortly with a tray. Keyna made a show of mixing a liquid and a powder into a bowl.

"Can't have our new prize looking so sad and defeated," he said in a mocking tone. "Can we, Mayra?"

"My name is O'Neill."

The enforcer on the left raised a meaty fist to correct the insubordination, and Keyna saw the Mayra tense in preparation for the blow. He gestured, and the enforcer aborted the move in mid-strike. He turned back to O'Neill with the same mocking voice. "Is our new Mayra afraid?"

Jack ground his teeth in anger, "Like to see you go a round with these two gorillas." He jerked his arms to indicate the huge men who calmly pinned them.

Keyna raised an eyebrow. "Gorillas? Is that some kind of plaything?" He dipped a finger in the bowl, smeared some of the contents on a gash on the arm of one of the gorillas.

O'Neill watched, wariness turning to surprise as the cut healed before his eyes. Keyna noticed the reaction. This one must have been a poor man in his home city if he never had healing before. "You came to me with serious wounds. I restored you with this before you awakened," Keyna explained. He leaned close to the Mayra, looking him solidly in the eye, curious to see his reaction. "You realize this means I can have you re-injured just as badly anytime you displease me."

The Mayra's chin raised an inch in continued defiance, clearly trying to show his master that he was unafraid. He also swallowed, giving away that it was bravado not stupidity or disbelief.

Keyna smiled. This one wanted to appear strong and brave; he would therefore be made to seem weak and cowardly. "You will find I am not so cruel a master as that. Especially to one so delicate."

He reached again into the bowl and turned to O'Neill, who held still - not that he had a lot of choice - and let him smear liquid on the cut on his head. The Mayra responded instantly to the burning, struggling furiously to get away.

Keyna waited till he stopped his vain efforts. "My, such a fragile thing you are! Still, we must do what we must do." He reached out with another finger full of the fluid. O'Neill recoiled. Or tried to.

"Now, now," Keyna mocked, "don't be such a baby!"

Despite his best efforts, Jack's arm was extended by the guard holding it. Keyna smiled and stroked the liquid flame on. And so it went, with pauses between to ensure he felt the full effect, until all of his wounds were healed.

"There now, all better." Keyna said patronizingly.

O'Neill, still trembling from the ordeal, said nothing.

"Clean him up," Keyna told the guards. "But be gentle, you can see how delicate he is."

The guards took him away, and Keyna turned. He wiped his fingers and dropped the cloth on the tray. It fell on the side of the bowl with the generous helping of salt mixed in. The side he'd used on the new Mayra.

oOo

Hammond stood watching from the control room, trying not to let his anxiety show. He wished he could be in the gate room itself, but that would be inappropriate. And unfair. The rescue team sent after Colonel O'Neill was returning under heavy fire; the lower officers in charge of guarding the gate room should not have to worry about protecting their General or listening for his orders over their immediate commander's.

They spilled through the gate in quick succession. First one man, crouched and dragging another's limp body, scuttled down the ramp and was taken to one side by a medical team. Then another flopped through with a grimace and slid himself to one side and half behind the gate, cradling his gun aimed back at it, ready to defend if needed. Another pair backed through, each with one arm around the other to help walk, and a weapon in their free hand. They swung to one side and knelt to be out of the way of the gate room defense squad, but also kept their aim on the gate. The last three backed through shoulder to shoulder, the one on the right gesturing for the iris to be closed. Every eye in the room stayed fixed on the gate until the protective cover was fully closed.

Colonel Wood spun sharply on his heel to confirm that the medical teams were on the way up the ramp to his injured men. He checked the three injured men still at the top of the ramp before stalking down it. The still-healthy pair who had backed through the gate with him needed no orders; they automatically split up and would stay with their injured comrades all the way to the infirmary.

Wood went to the last two of his men, the ones who had come through first. Blue had taken an unlucky hit under his arm, right at the small but undefended joint in his body armor. Winston knelt by his head, trying to look confident for his fallen partner, as the medics prepared to lift the man onto a gurney.

The doctor stood to speak to Wood. "We need to get a better picture of his injury, of course, but his vital signs are strong." She didn't have to explain. If his signs were still strong after being shot and then dragged home, he had to be in relatively good condition.

Hammond waited near the door, watching. He would see each man as he left the room, and let Wood have his time with them now. The Colonel's actions were sharp, his face set; he was clearly very angry. Wood nodded to the doctor, smiled encouragingly at Blue and Winston, then stalked over to where Hammond waited.

"How are the men?"

Wood's expression softened a bit; he appreciated that Hammond's first question was about his men and not the mission results or the still-missing officer. "Should be ok, sir. Blue took a bad hit, but the others are leg wounds." He glanced around the room, re-checking his people. "The enemy are fast learners, sir. Figured out that their weapons weren't penetrating our armor, and started trying to trip or knock us down instead so they could make a physical capture. We kept ahead of them despite some falls until Barnaby got hit on the bottom of his foot while he was getting up." The soles of the boots were not armored, just leather to make it easier to walk. "They combined tactics, sending a barrage of fire at the feet whenever any of us went down."

Hammond nodded. "Good job getting the team home, Ben."

Wood was looking past him at Blue, who was being rolled out of the room with Winston walking alongside.

"Do you have any news on Colonel O'Neill?"

Wood scowled furiously. "He gave the alarm and set the enemy on us!"

oOo

All the Mayree froze when Keyna's henchmen arrived at their enclosure.

"Mayra, come," they said, pointing to Jack.

He rose from his solitary place against the wall and went to them. No choice now, he reminded himself. Not any more. He would just have to be the perfect slave until he found a way out of this hell-hole.

They had him but good, this time, Jack thought grimly to himself. They demanded instant, total obedience or else they would... No, he wasn't going to think about what they would do, what they had done already to ensure his behavior. It would be so much easier if they would just hit him or something, instead of ... No, he reminded himself, don't think about that. Just do your job, soldier. Do what you need to do until you figure a way out of this. A way out for everyone, natives included. Trying to encourage himself, he reminded himself that if they truly believed him cowed, then his eventual uprising would be unexpected.

He followed the enormous men, Mayree themselves, out of the enclosure. They were there to enforce Keyna's will upon Mayra in training, with brute force if necessary. They were immense- the top of Jack's head didn't even reach the shoulder of the smaller one. Jack had resisted their discipline for days, even landed a few good blows as long as he evaded them, but as soon as one got a good hold on him he was finished. He supposed he should count himself fortunate that they limited their response to the letter of Keyna's command as they could easily pulverize him. He wondered briefly who had trained _them_.

Determined to avoid further punishment for his errors, he reviewed is his mind the things he had learned so for. Respond instantly to anything beginning or ending with _Mayra_. He would not be referred to by any specific name until he was considered fully trained. Do not respond to any comment, no matter how provocative or threatening, if the comment did not include the word Mayra. Keyna had already amused himself with this one before Jack caught on to the Simon-says rule. Do not look at Keyna unless directed to do so. Call Keyna by name every time he spoke to him. Well, he could call Keyna 'master' if he chose, but he would never choose to.

These were the only rules he knew so far, and they were hard won. Keyna would not tell him any rule until after he figured it out. Instead, there would be unexpected punishments, after which Keyna would ask Jack what he had done wrong. Only when Jack had the answer would Keyna confirm it.

He saw Keyna ahead and steeled himself for today's games. He did not expect any reward or relief for sounding the alarm on the rescue team yesterday. He could only hope that the heavily armored men had made it home safely, and wonder how Wood's mission report would read. He'd had no chance to explain his action; would the SGC even try to send anyone else? If they did, could they find a way to get him out? Or would they write him off as lost in action or, worse, as a traitor?

oOo

Keyna noted the change in the Mayra it and looked forward to a productive day. Now that he had found a deterrent that the stubborn Mayra would desperately try to avoid, it was simply a matter of time before he was driven to frustration, despair, and ultimately surrender.

He had known immediately that such a physical man would prefer physical punishment, something to be directly resisted. So he had given him none. The enforcers inflicted not an ounce more pressure than required to make him do what was required. Even the tasks set him were not physically challenging. He could sense the growing frustration, the need to take action, to lash out at some physical thing. He had even tested the Mayra with an outside task yesterday, one with no supervision the Mayra should have been aware of, expecting him to at least slack off and at most to attempt escape. To Keyna's surprise, the Mayra had not only obeyed his orders, he had raised the alarm when strangers approached him. The Mayra was intelligent; he had probably suspected the entire thing was a test, including the strangers. Keyna had more difficult things in mind for today.

As the day wore on, Keyna grew more and more vexed. He had been pleased at first that the Mayra was behaving himself. He had performed each of the increasingly disagreeable tasks with no hesitation. But he was simply making choices; selecting the assigned task over the punishment. That was fine to start with. He could be trusted to behave while he was watched, or if the results of his efforts could be measured. Such half-training, though, led to Mayree who had to be watched, who did things behind their master's back, who might refuse a difficult or painful command. Keyna turned out no such creatures; he prided himself on his work. His Mayree would not dream of disobeying or escaping. He knew; he tested them all to the limits.

This Mayra had taken the first step. Now he had to be pushed beyond. Keyna would have to find some intolerable tasks if he were to break the Mayra. Things that made him choose punishment instead, or at least hesitate to obey. Then force him to comply anyway, as many times as necessary until he no longer resisted. Only when he unquestioningly and immediately obeyed even the ugliest orders would he be fully trained.


	2. Familiarity Breeds Contempt

oOo Chapter Two

"You asked to see me, sir?"

Hammond could see the hope on Major Carter's face, but he had not summoned her to give her what she wanted, which was to be sent through the gate to go after Colonel O'Neill. Her arm was not fully healed yet, and she knew that meant she couldn't go off-world. Someone had to, though. Incidents were springing up all over the base as people argued over Colonel O'Neill. Some called him a traitor for setting the enemy on an SGC team. Others said he was a victim of alien brainwashing. Still others were in-between the two extremes. Fewer and fewer were reserving opinion until more facts were obtained. He decided to dispense with her main concern first, then move on to his reason for calling her.

"Colonel Morgan will be taking her team to PR5-SL9 at the next opportunity." Morgan was experienced, cool and calm under pressure. Her priority was actually to find out why O'Neill had prevented his own rescue, so the facts could be used to determine whether he now presented a threat to Earth. Any answer would also ease the pressure building on the base. Given the results of the last mission, she was to use her own judgment about attempting to extract O'Neill. Hammond wouldn't tell Carter, or anyone but Morgan, that.

"Yes, sir." Her reaction seemed mixed; glad someone was going, but still wishing it was her and the remaining members of SG-1.

"I have an assignment for you. The diplomatic team has been working with the government of PS3-994. The Antonans are willing to trade technology, provided we can reciprocate with something they find valuable. So far, the technology offered by the diplomatic team has not been of interest. An Antonan delegation will be arriving later today. It's their first visit, so there will be some welcoming formalities in the gate room. Then I want you to show them some technology classified as sharable and try to find something they will trade for. Here is a list of what they have rejected." He handed her a sheaf of notes. It's thickness was evidence of how many options the diplomatic team had already tried.

"Yes, sir." She turned to go.

"Major."

She turned back.

"We'll get him out of there."

oOo

Jack stood in the training room, trying not to look -- or feel -- worried as he waited for Keyna. Mayree in training were watched closely, so it was likely someone was looking now, and maybe noting his reaction to the intriguing objects set up in the room today.

Strips of metal heated over a cheery fire in a wide, low stone pot. Coils of leather, an inch wide and a yard or so long, lay next to it, as did a pair of pincers. A taller, narrower pot hid its contents under a rough-hewn lid. The final object was a small basket, heaped with something currently covered by a stained cloth.

What would Keyna make him do today? Or do to him? Hot metal and leather straps had scary possibilities. Were they better or worse than what was under the lid or the cloth?

"Mayra!"

Jack jumped at the sound. He had not heard Keyna enter, and wondered if he'd been there long. He looked at Keyna's chest, demonstrating he was paying attention without making the forbidden eye contact, but did not speak since he had not been asked a question. Keyna sauntered across the room to the objects in the center. He made a show of picking up the pincers and turned.

Jack stiffened, steeling himself to accept whatever happened; it would still be better than being punished. He watched Keyna's hands rise ominously, expecting him to use the pincers to pick up one of the metal strips, and surprised when he just dropped them into his own pocket.

He soon found out that the 'reprieve' from the pincers was no such thing. His task was to take a small stone from the basket, clean it with the cloth, and then drop it on the appropriate strip of hot metal. In about 30 seconds, he was to turn it, and in 30 more, remove the now-glowing stone from the searing plate, and set it in an indent on the leather strap to cool. Without the pincers, he burned his fingertips on each stone, and that made it hard to follow Keyna's rapid instructions.

"Blue stone, red stone, green stone…"

The orders for stones came faster and faster, and he struggled to keep track of what was next and when each one would be ready to flip or remove. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, taking a blue stone off the fire too soon. It sat on the leather, its dull slate color drab next to the sparkling hues of its mates.

"There will be punishment, Mayra." He waved, and one of the enforcers stepped out of the room to prepare.

Jack was so upset he almost forgot about the remaining stones. He caught a red one a little too late, but it sparkled, even if its deep wine color was darker than its ruby colored companions. The others he rescued in time, lining them up on the leather.

Keyna beckoned him, and Jack responded, moving to kneel just in front of him. "What did you do to deserve punishment, Mayra?"

_*Nothing, you bastard,*_ is what he wanted to say. Aloud, he responded thoroughly, trying to cover as many bases as possible. "I did not do as you ordered, Keyna. And I caused the stone not to sparkle. I was not fast enough, or careful enough."

"Very good, Mayra. You must do everything you are told, exactly as you are told."

"Yes, Keyna."

Outside, he could hear the sounds of the enforcer returning. Keyna heard, too, looking toward the door. Jack felt a twist of dread; Keyna was really going to do it.

"Keyna, please…." his voice sounded piteous even to his own ears. Keyna raised eyebrows at him in surprise. Maybe it would help to beg. Oh, please, please, let it help! "… don't do that punishment. Something else. _Anything_ else."

"There will be punishment, Mayra."

_*No! Please, no!*_ He screamed it in his head, half-falling forward in horror. He curled the rest of the way, pressing his face against his knees to keep from howling aloud. Keyna was going to do it _twice_ now. Twice. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't.

The first enforcer was entering the room, huge hands easily able to carry what he'd returned with.

"What did you do to make this happen, Mayra?"

Always the question was phrased to remind him of his guilt. Jack took a shuddering breath, raising his head just enough to be heard. At least the reason was obvious this time. "I spoke without being spoken to, Keyna. And without your leave to speak on my own." He straightened his back before he finished, and turned his head toward Keyna, suddenly afraid there might be a rule about speaking while not showing attention.

"Very good, Mayra," he confirmed. He waved, and the enforcers passed one another as the first returned to begin the initial punishment and the second left to prepare for the next. "Your words are very important to you, aren't they? You choose to talk even though it means there will be a correction."

The comment hadn't included the word 'Mayra,' so Jack didn't dare respond. He seethed at how it must sound to the young Mayra who had accompanied the first enforcer's return. Keyna's disappointed look confirmed that it had been an attempt at tricking him into a third punishment.

oOo

Major Carter sat down on her chair and picked up the phone with her good left hand. Hammond would be surprised to hear from her so soon. She glanced over at the pair of Antonans chortling with delight over their find.

"General Hammond."

"General, this is Major Carter. We've found some technology they want to trade for." She watched as one Antonan shrieked as the other tricked him with the device. Always try the simple solutions first, as her old science teacher used to say.

"Already? That's good news. Will it be difficult or expensive to gather or make sufficient quantities?"

"No, sir. A trip to the local hardware store ought to do it."

"Hardware store?" The amazement was evident in his voice. "What exactly is the technology you've promised them?"

She smiled then. He hadn't asked for the details right away, so he'd expected it to be something complicated to explain. "Hinges, sir." The Antonans had never even made it all the way into the room; they'd all but collapsed with laughter on the threshold. "The Antonans use their retractable plastic for doors and lids. They've never seen a hinge, and certainly not on a door. They're very amused." They'd spent the past twenty minutes swinging it back and forth, giggling as it moved, watching it go fast or slow depending on how hard they pushed. Once, they'd slammed it by mistake, erupting into near hysterics after a moment of stunned silence.

"I'll contact the diplomatic team immediately. We should complete the agreement before the novelty wears off."

oOo

"Enough." All the Mayree responded to his one-word command. The enforcers executing the correction stopped instantly, of course. The pair of servants standing at the wall sagged against it in relief that the spectacle had ended. The Mayree-in-training sighed, a shivery half-sob of a sound, but he did not move from his assigned position.

Keyna waved, and the servants came forward to clear up. He did nothing else, allowing all eyes to focus on them so the correction would sink in all the more. It was one of the most fearsome disciplines he'd ever devised, and he wanted the full impact of each to minimize the total number required. It was working; while the Mayra's body was still, his muscles all bulged, giving away that he was incredibly tense rather than relaxed. His breathing was shallow, and Keyna could hear its shakiness even from where he sat. It would not take many more corrections before this one broke.

One of the servants carried a bloody bundle out of the room while the other returned to his post by the wall.

"Mayra, sear a blue stone. Then a red stone, red stone, green stone…" He deliberately did not preface the new command with any lecture, or allow a rest period. A Mayra must be ready to serve at all times.

The Mayra's speed as he leapt to obey would have been comical had the mood in the room been any different.

"Red stone, green stone, green stone, red stone, blue stone…"

Two strips of leather were filled with stones now, and a third was begun.

"…green stone, blue stone, yellow stone -- throw that one into the fire."

The Mayra quickly tossed it toward the flames.

"…when I tell you to."

The Mayra gasped, lunging for the stone, catching it barely in time and nearly knocking one of the metal strips as he did. He looked up at Keyna's chest with trepidation, waiting for judgment.

Keyna nodded shortly at him. "Red stone, red stone…" This minor success, coming after back-to-back corrections, would encourage the Mayra that total submission led to relief.

The Mayra sighed with relief and then jumped as he realized two of his stones were nearly overdone. He grabbed them quickly, and Keyna watched as closely as he to see if they would sparkle. They did, though not so brightly as their mates.

"Blue stone, green stone…" Keyna saw the Mayra's eyes flick to him in gratitude. Another good sign.

oOo

General Hammond sighed, closing the latest report and filing it away in his drawer. The incidents were becoming more frequent, not less, as the base polarized over whether Colonel O'Neill was captive or criminal. Only one physical altercation so far, but if Colonel Morgan didn't return soon, he was sure there would be more.

The phone rang, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. The last call had been from the infirmary. Apparently, someone had supported their belief that O'Neill had turned with the fact that Teal'c himself had once changed loyalties. Hearing that, Hammond had had a moment of fear that the big man had killed the speaker. He'd almost laughed aloud when he heard the rest of the story. Teal'c had carried the man to the infirmary, plopped him unceremoniously into a bed, and pinned him there as he calmly informed the staff that their new patient had been asking to be injured and would be safer kept away from those who might oblige. Hammond had heard the speaker's vain struggling in the background as the doctor asked for advice.

He doubted all his calls would be so entertaining, and he was right. At least this one wasn't about O'Neill. There had been some sort of incident with the Antonans. He hurried off to Major Carter's lab. The door was open, and he could hear raised voices even before he arrived.

"You will give it to us or you will not get the retractable plastic!"

Hammond was glad to know the stakes before he went in, but angry that it should come to this. The Antonans should not have seen any technology that couldn't be shared.

"Arcule, I already told you, I can't. I don't know how."

Hammond hid his frown as he entered. What could they have seen?

"Ah, here is General Hammond! He will order you to produce it!" Arcule's voice was triumphant.

"I can't!" The fact that she snapped back at Arcule instead of acknowledging Hammond demonstrated her frustration.

"May I ask what it is you want, Arcule?" Hammond kept his voice neutral.

"No."

"Excuse me?" It made no sense for Arcule to insist on seeing him and then not explain.

"He means 'snow,' sir," Carter explained with a sigh.

"_Snow?"_ He must still be hearing things wrong.

"Yes!" Arcule folded his arms. "You will make it snow on Antona or we shall not trade with you."

Make it snow on a desert planet. It made dealing with the fights between his staff sound fun.

oOo

Jack made it through the rest of the day without further punishment. He was thrilled when they headed him toward the Mayree enclosure for the night. Now that he did not have to focus intently on Keyna, he knew memories of the day's events would replay themselves in his mind. It would be miserable, but bad memories were still far better than being constantly at risk of causing a real repeat.

They turned him loose into the high-walled yard that served as 'home' to the Mayree at night. He headed for the corner he had staked out, pausing when he realized that a child was lying on the ground, whimpering from injuries, as his mother crooned over him. Nearby, another was also being tended by her weeping parents. Keyna was so cruel as to heal adult Mayree but not children?

Two adult male Mayree approached him. They were bare-chested despite the chill night air. Jack realized that all the other men were, and that their shirts must be the makeshift blankets warming the wounded children. One of the pair demanded the top of Jack's black Mayree uniform, and he slipped it off, happy to offer some bit of help. Mayree clothing was thin, and the night was getting cold already.

The men frowned at him, and a third joined the pair. "I told you! Look at him! Not a single mark!"

Jack's eyes flicked to the other men's bodies. It was easy since they were all gathering around him now, and not in a friendly sort of way. Every one sported cuts, bruises, minor burns, or other indications that they had fought back against Keyna and his evil training methods. Why was he the only one Keyna used the healing ointment on?

One of them spat some word, calling him a name in their language, no doubt.

Jack tried to explain, to tell them what Keyna had done, but they were not in the mood to listen to anything he said. The name-caller advanced, and the others moved with him. Jack faced the mob, wondering briefly if it might be a more merciful end to let them beat him to death than to continue under Keyna's tutelage. Even if he was ready to die, it probably wouldn't work; Keyna's watchers wouldn't stop a squabble among Mayree but they would step in eventually to save their master's property from total destruction. His best bet would be to take out the first one dramatically enough to warn off the others.

The name-caller struck at him, a nice clean right cross. Jack grabbed the fist and moved with it, adding his own force to speed them both through one full turn. If the others jumped him before he made it around, he'd have no chance. Luck or surprise was on his side, and he was able to force the man to his knees in front of the others. His left hand held his opponent's right high up behind his back, while his right braced the man's neck to prevent escape or even choke if he chose. Jack yanked up on the wrist, and name-caller cried out. "I can break his arm," Jack warned.

They stood, watching him and muttering among themselves.

He didn't want to fight for prison-yard supremacy. Being one of the guys was obviously out of the question. He'd have to take the part of the strange guy everyone stayed clear of. "Just leave me alone, ok?" He punctuated the request with some groan-inducing pressure on name-caller's arm. His captive jerked in a vain attempt to escape; Jack clenched his right hand to stop him, drawing blood with his ragged fingernails.

They muttered more among themselves, so he elicited another moan from the name-caller. They grudgingly backed away a few steps.

Jack released the name-caller, pushing him toward the others.

They exchanged distrustful warning looks as the man rose and walked to the others. When he joined them, the group backed away a little more.

Jack took the opportunity to move warily toward his corner. He slid down and sat, knees raised in front of him, arms crossed against the cool air. At least he had a wall on two sides to block the wind and maybe reflect some body heat. The others migrated back to the other corner, furthest from the entryway, and grouped together for warmth, the children in the center.

oOo

Colonel Morgan settled into the shrubbery for the day's watch on this side of the compound. Major Evans was a quarter of the perimeter away from her. Between them they could watch half the compound. The other half was made up of window-less, door-less walls too high to see over. They'd had their first sighting of Colonel O'Neill this morning, trooping along with a large group of black-dressed men under armed guard out one door and into another.

She was sure already that he was not a traitor. No one would voluntarily be treated the way she'd seen others in the black uniforms handled. She didn't think he'd been brainwashed, either. Surely if you could control someone's mind, you'd make them behave without the harsh disciplines they'd been witnessing. So why did he stop his own rescue? They were doing something to keep him here, obviously. If they were, or would, also do something to elicit information dangerous to Earth, he could still be classified as a risk.

They would keep watching until they knew. She and Evans here, Finney and Archer over the city common area. Finney and Archer were watching the people, the way they interacted, the locations of critical buildings in the city. If Hammond ever agreed to military action, they would know exactly what to target. They had pages and pages of notes on how the society interacted, intended to help if diplomacy or insurrection were attempted. Morgan was beginning to doubt either would really be possible; there seemed to be unusual behavior around every little action. You didn't just walk up to another person and talk; you exchanged a complicated handshake that would make a college fraternity proud. People responded in a variety of ways when passing another on the street; ignoring them, nodding, bowing, kneeling, or stepping out of the way apparently based on some status indicator that they hadn't quite figured out yet. All in all, she'd much rather let her P-90 do the talking and take the Colonel home.

oOo

Keyna sat on his raised chair and surveyed his trainees. Their ranks were swelling; the magic circle was lighting up often now, and battles were almost continuous as they fought to stop their enemy from using it. The Forever Feud must not end with the other side mastering magic.

He could no longer train each of his Mayree personally. He had gone back to the traditional way; a personal consultation with each at the beginning and end of each day, sending most off under the supervision of enforcers in between. The most interesting or amusing ones he'd still handle himself. He'd dispensed with the women and children already this morning. The men had been filthy; they'd removed their shirts to protect their young, and last night's wind had coated them with fine black silt. It was sensible to build compounds like this on unpleasant land no one wanted to live or farm on, but it was annoying at times like this. He'd sent the males off to bathe and dress in clean clothes, but it put him behind schedule. He should be done with assignments by now, and working with those he chose, but he still had a handful remaining before him.

He beckoned the next one forward, and the Mayra dutifully advanced and knelt. This one had bruises on his neck that were not there when Keyna saw him last night. He knew why, of course; though he tried to hide it from them, the Mayree pen was closely watched to monitor whether they were really changing or just behaving in front of their master. Plus, as for his stone-searing Mayra, it sometimes revealed weaknesses that could be exploited to further training.

"Where did you get those marks, Mayra?" Keyna asked the Mayra. This one's name had been Rilla when he was free. While in training, he, like all the newly taken, was simply 'Mayra'. Later, he would become Rillamo, the suffix forever marking him as Mayree. With their increased numbers, Keyna had to start thinking of them by names to keep them straight.

The man flushed, but answered. "I made advances to someone, Keyna."

Keyna laughed, at the lie as well as the fool thinking he could get away with it. "And who was it who spurned you so cruelly, Mayra?" Mayree figured out pretty quickly that they were made to repeat things they disliked. Would he identify another who would happily cooperate, thinking to be given a training task that was actually a pleasure?

"Him, Keyna" the man pointed to the Mayra who was his most challenging. The one who had even refused to give a real name on his first day. He'd been exceptionally defiant, claiming names that did not even end with "a," like "Oneel" and "Jack." Keyna learned later that the battlefield cleaners, who had groups to retrieve, to strip, to clean, to heal, and to document prisoners, had done their worst to pull a name from him and even severe pain only elicited an agonized mantra that added a made up suffix to what must be his true name, "Jonathononeel, Jonathononeel, Jonathononeel." Keyna was sure that if he were to ask today, Jona would call himself Jonamo and admit that no other suffix had any value to him.

Keyna's eyebrows rose at Rillamo's choice of Jonamo. This pair did not get along. He recognized an ill-concealed smirk on Rillamo's face, and it explained much. He had chosen Jonamo _because_ he did not like him. Logically, if Keyna chose to take action, he would either punish Jonamo or else order him to submit to advances. Rillamo would get to see or do something Jonamo would not like.

Keyna considered. Rillamo would not be too difficult to train; he had basically accepted the loss of his freedom, but still had some spite and self-righteousness toward other Mayree. That could be dispensed with by humbling him until he realized he was no different than any other Mayra.

Jonamo was a more difficult case. Since Keyna had found his key to controlling him, Jonamo had silently obeyed every command given. But he was not truly Mayree yet; he merely did as he was told to avoid punishment. He had to be broken, to totally and unconditionally surrender to his master, in order to become a quality slave. If Jonamo vehemently opposed unwanted intercourse, this could be an opportunity to drive him to submission.

He beckoned to Jonamo, choosing his words carefully to get the response he wanted. "He says you refused him. Did you hurt him, Mayra?"

"Yes, Keyna."

Keyna eyed him. "Make it up to him, Mayra."

"I don't understand, Keyna." Jack said.

"He is right here. Give him what he wants, Mayra." Keyna sat back expectantly. What would Jonamo do, he wondered? He hoped the Mayra would resist so that he would have the focal point he needed for the battle of wills that would inevitably end with the Mayra's surrender.

The Mayra did not hesitate. He embraced his accuser, nipping his neck and whispering something in his ear. Far from enjoying his triumph, Rillamo froze, responding as if he were hearing threats rather than endearments. Jonamo nuzzled him and whispered again.

Rillamo thrust Jonamo violently away.

Jonamo stumbled back, and then started after Rillamo.

"No!" Rillamo cried. "Keyna please!" He held up his hands to ward off Jonamo.

Jonamo stopped and looked questioningly at Keyna's chest, indicating a request for direction without meeting his eyes.

"Do as you are told, mayree!" Keyna snapped. He was fairly sure now that Jonamo had whispered some dire threat into Rillamo's ear to avoid the situation without refusing an order himself. This might just be the training tool Keyna needed to break Jonamo.

Jonamo started toward Rillamo again.

The other man backed away. "No, Keyna, I beg you! Not with him!" He circled around, avoiding the pursuing Jonamo. "Keyna, please! He, he, he is diseased!"

"What?!"

The panicked man blurted out that the other mayra was diseased. Even the hair below was a different color. He had seen it this morning in the baths. He begged his master for mercy.

"Is this true?" demanded Keyna. "Show me, Mayra."

Biting his lip, Jonamo showed him.

Sure enough, the hair at his groin was darker than the unusual silvery color on his head. Keyna wondered which was the healthy shade. He'd heard stories of people living so long that the hair on their head turned some other color, but those were legends from before the Forever Feud. Now, everyone joined the military on their seventeenth birthday. A woman returned to civilian life when her belly swelled with her first child, a man when his firstborn could stand before the commander. A mother returned to lifelong military service after fifteen years, and a father when his firstborn enlisted on the child's seventeenth birthday. Keyna had known old soldiers, even one who managed to survive to the amazing age of forty-three, and their hair had not changed colors. This Mayra must indeed be diseased.

Disappointed, Keyna rescinded his order. He saw relief in Rillamo and muted triumph in Jonamo. He forbid Jonamo sexual contact with anyone. He did not want his healthy stock infected. For good measure, and to snatch victory from Jonamo, he also imposed the traditional control on overly aggressive Mayree. If Jonamo hurt anyone without orders from Keyna, the same would be done to Jonamo. A slow smile spread on Rillamo's face, and it was Jonamo's turn to freeze. Keyna knew Rillamo would make sure the other Mayree knew Jonamo was now defenseless, and they would turn on him. Jonamo would have no real rest at night, and if the exhaustion didn't speed him toward surrender, the mistakes and corrections it caused would.

Keyna was even further behind schedule now. He decided to give Jonamo another outside test. He sent him off with instructions to wash all the dirty Mayree uniforms in the river. The Mayree would change into them before being brought before Keyna in the evening. If he found silt on them, there would be punishment. It sounded simple enough, as if it were a test to prove he was working hard when unsupervised. But the wind from the previous night had never died down. Anyone and anything outside the compound would be coated with the fine sand.

oOo

Jack had been sent to the river with nothing but the uniforms and some soap. The enforcer had made a point of removing them from the laundry bag first, so there was no use asking for something to cover them with, even if he had been allowed to initiate a conversation. He was clearly being set up to fail, but he'd do his best to succeed anyway. When he'd reached the river, he stripped out of his own uniform and tied knots in the waists, one wrist and one ankle. After washing each other uniform, he held it underwater as he turned it inside out, wadded it up, and stuffed it in either the open wrist or open ankle of his uniform. He would wring the bundles out when he was done, and carry them back inside the makeshift "bags." For Keyna to see it, any silt would have to get through his uniform as well as from inside to outside of the others. He dearly hoped it would work.

Jack had seen someone stealthily creeping closer. Not by much, just some reeds 'blowing' for a brief moment after the fickle wind had paused. He had been anxiously considering what to say. If he gave the alarm again, a second team would probably take him out on the spot. They may be planning to do it anyway, depending on what they thought of Wood's report. He kept working. They would make contact if they intended to.

A reed rustled when the wind was calm. That was deliberate. A subtle request for attention. Jack looked in its direction a long moment later. A face appeared briefly between the fronds. Morgan. Thank god. He could trust her to protect his secret. Keyna's training method would be effective on Jack anywhere in the universe. If it got out, he would be useless. Worse, he'd be available as a tool for anyone ruthless enough to use him.

He wanted to lie, but he hadn't come up with anything remotely believable for his refusing rescue. Even if he pretended to be brainwashed, they would simply abduct him. Keyna wouldn't know, or care, about the difference.

oOo

Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel waited with Hammond as the iris opened. Evans, Archer and Finney appeared. A brief pause, then Morgan came through. She looked up at the hopeful faces behind the glass and shook her head. The wormhole closed behind her.

A grim party made its way silently to the briefing room.

"Colonel?" The habitual smirk that Morgan laughingly called a birthmark was missing, replaced by a cold stillness that he recognized as controlled anger.

Morgan got right to the point. "He can't be taken by stealth, sir. Suggest attempting a diplomatic solution while we plan for replacing the ruling party."

"Replacing the ruling party?" Daniel echoed. She couldn't be serious.

"We are by far the superior power. We can take them in a single military strike," she told him matter-of-factly. "We could end their current war and have a new indigenous government in place -- on both sides if necessary -- in a matter of weeks." She looked toward Carter and Teal'c for support. "You have to admit ending the war would save a lot of indigenous lives."

Carter bit her lip and cocked her head, considering. She didn't like the idea of overthrowing someone else's government per se, but Morgan did have a point. The battle they had unintentionally 'gated into had erupted within the minutes between sending the MALP and the team; and both sides had already been intense enough to turn on the newcomers without hesitation.

"It would be possible," Teal'c confirmed.

Morgan looked to her team, who each nodded in turn. She saw the reluctant agreement around the table and turned back to Hammond. "Request permission to begin planning, sir."

"Denied. We don't just overthrow an alien government."

"Insurrection, then." They would have to study the population, hopefully not for too much longer, but then surely they could instigate some actions to make the locals bring down their government on their own.

"Enough, Colonel." Hammond stared at her; she didn't look away but neither did she speak. "We'll send a raiding party to extract him with whatever force necessary."

"You can't, General. He's secured. Even if you do manage to drag him out, he'll end up back there."

"Secured how?"

"I can't tell you, sir."

"Would you like to step into my office?" He half-rose, expecting her to follow him and explain in private.

"I can't tell you there, either, sir."

"Why not?"

"Answering could endanger military personnel and/or operations, sir."

Hammond frowned. As the commander of both the personnel and operation involved, it was highly unusual for the military version of the fifth amendment to be invoked against him. Morgan's expression and all those extra "sirs" in her speech showed that she knew she was on shaky ground. This was not the place for that conversation, however. "We'll discuss this later, Colonel. For the time being, are you sure he can't be extracted by a raiding party?"

"Yes, sir. We have to change at least the local leadership."

"Change them how?" Hammond wasn't stupid, but he wanted to be absolutely certain he understood her intent.

"I'll be happy to blow them all to hell for you, sir."

"We are not going to overthrow their government!"

She pursed her lips. Overthrow, insurrection, stealth, and surgical strike all out of the question. "Negotiate, then. If political attempts fail, I recommend assassination."

"Colonel!" Carter gasped.

Teal'c's fists clenched.

The General just stared.

"What?" Daniel looked around. "You consider toppling an entire government, but you're shocked at shooting one guy?"

Carter tore her eyes off Morgan and turned to her friend. "She means the Colonel."

It was Daniel's turn to gape. "Did you mean it? You'd assassinate Jack?"

Morgan looked at him levelly. "I won't leave him there. There are things worse than death."

oOo

Major Carter strode into the base eagerly. It was Sunday morning, maybe the summons meant they had information about the Colonel. She went straight to the General's office.

The Antonans were there, along with Hammond and the diplomatic team. Carter tried to hide her disappointment. She bowed her head in the Antonan greeting.

"General Hammond, how thoughtful to invite Major Carter's sister to this auspicious occasion as we make our partnership official!" the Antonan leader, Arcule, complimented.

Hammond shot her a confused look before pointing out that this was Major Carter herself, not a sister.

Arcule's eyes narrowed, as if he suspected a joke was being played. When no punch line was delivered, he elaborated. "Meaning no disrespect to your lovely sister, your eyes are larger and your lips fuller than hers. You may appear identical to Earthlings, but we Antonans can clearly see the difference."

"Oh, um, thank you." Carter tried to phrase her response carefully. You couldn't always tell when another culture would take something the wrong way. "It's me, Arcule. I'm wearing makeup today. It's a temporary coloring that Earth women use to enhance their appearance. I don't usually wear it at work here on the base."

He looked suspicious, as if still expecting that punch line.

"I'll go wash it off. You'll see." She turned, and found Arcule and his entourage following. She hesitated, then continued on. Having a group of aliens watch as she washed her face would hardly be the strangest thing she ever did at the SGC.

Finney, one of Morgan's team, came out of one of the bathroom stalls as she was drying her face. She washed her hands in a nearby basin, her face carefully blank before the higher ranking officers.

Carter froze, keeping her own mildly amused look on her face as an idea began to form. A way to rescue the Colonel.

oOo

Jack walked to the Mayree pen with mixed feelings. He'd been ecstatic to bring those uniforms back clean and avoid a correction. The pissed look on Keyna's face did not bode well for tomorrow, though. Would Morgan and the SGC be able to think up a way to get him out of here before he got punished again?

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he started toward his usual corner without noticing that something had changed. He almost bumped into the adult male Mayree who were blocking his path. There was no mistaking their hostility. Glancing between the threatening faces of the men, he saw the women and children in their usual corner, but with the children by the wall and the women's bodies blocking their view of this area. No one was lying on the ground today, but the women's grim expressions showed they weren't celebrating that fact. The women started loudly chanting a Mayree song, no doubt intended to cover any noise from this end of the enclosure.

Forget about tomorrow, he was in trouble right now.


	3. Friends and Enemies

oOo Chapter Three – Friends and Enemies

Jack blinked slowly, not sure of much other than that everything hurt. He was very cold, laying on his right side in some swampy mud and looking at barren brown mountains below a starry sky. In the distance, he could see tiny figures moving along a cliff. A rescue team? Coming to save him from...

Wait.

He was a POW on planet PS-something-or-other. There were rolling foothills nearby, but the mountains had been miles away. How had he ended up here? Maybe the rescue team would tell him. It was too painful to move, and thinking didn't seem much easier. He'd just wait for them, and for his mind to clear.

He watched the tiny figures advance. There were four of them, with one slightly ahead, two in the middle, and one trailing behind. Standard configuration when treacherous terrain didn't require single-file. His hopes soared that it really was an SG team coming to save him from whatever had happened. The leader crouched suddenly, the middle pair coming to his side. The last one approached the group, and that tableau summoned the missing memory.

The Mayree men. He remembered the sick feeling as he faced the angry crowd of them. There would be no scaring them off this time. He'd assumed Keyna would document how he fought back, to make sure he had the pleasure of inflicting the same on Jack later, and would send someone in to stop it once the others had beaten the resistance out of him. So he'd tried to cut to the chase, curling into a defensive ball as soon as they knocked him down. He remembered how eerily silent they'd been, probably so the kids wouldn't notice what was happening. They'd forcibly un-curled his body, and it went suddenly dark as the curtain of fists and feet descended. The lack of sight emphasized the hollow thumping sounds of the blows all the more. Then there was just pain, nothingness, and now the mountain.

He checked the progress of the rescue team, which had moved a hearty distance along the cliff. *Good job, fellas, keep it up,* he encouraged silently. He allowed himself a pleasant daydream of home, of safety and warmth and people who didn't hit him. The rescuers obligingly continued at what had to be a brisk pace, especially considering that it looked like they were all carrying heavy packs.

Jack blinked, trying to focus. That wasn't an SG team. Those heavy packs were the chubby little bodies of bugs. And that was no mountain they were trundling across. He was still in the Mayree pen; they must have dumped his body here in the bathroom corner behind the pile of feces. In ultra-close-up, it looked like a mountain. Talk about being in deep shit.

He tried to accompany the little mental joke with a little snort of derisive laughter to lift his spirits, and the tiny motion sent a bolt of pain shooting through his gut. A ribbon of blood oozed from his throat and trickled over his lips to explain the swamp beneath his right cheek.

He must have internal injuries in addition to the obvious external ones. Keyna hadn't sent anyone to get him, during or after the ferocious beating. Was Keyna giving up, and letting the others throw him away? It was a crappy way to die. He cringed as the unintended humor sent another jolt through his belly. When he'd recovered from that, he reminded himself that there were worse ways to go. Someone had even posted a list in the locker room; a joke mainly, but also cold comfort that lost teammates could have had worse fates. What had been on top? Being locked into a sarcophagus with a man-eating beast, and eaten alive for centuries. Stuff like that made being beaten up and thrown away pretty appealing. He'd just watch the SG-Bug team on their little mission and drift away into death. It would be better than facing Keyna again.

Facing Keyna. Jack's blood ran cold at the thought of it. Would there be punishment when he was unable to respond to the enforcers' call in the morning? Keyna was cruel enough to do it.

He tried to roll over, so he could start crawling toward the gate. If he made it before the enforcers came, maybe there would be mercy. Or if the others saw him, maybe they'd finish what they'd started and he'd escape Keyna that way.

He wobbled forward, and this time a small gush of blood flowed from his mouth in concert with the sheer agony in his gut and a rushing in his ears. When the rushing stopped, he was on his side again. There was a small kitten somewhere nearby, its pitiful mewling barely audible. It sounded as near death as he felt.

He realized abruptly that *he* was the kitten. No, that wasn't it. He didn't want to be a kitten. He wanted to be a bug. Jack-Bug of the SG-Bug team, adventuring over mountains. But he was making kitten sounds. What should he do about that? It was so very hard to think, especially with those whiny kitten sounds. Close his mouth. Yes, that was it. Close his mouth to make the kitten go away.

He closed his mouth, congratulating himself on the achievement. Now he could be Jack-Bug and have his last adventure with SG-Bug. Where had they gone? He looked around, finding them hiking off into the sunrise over the mountain without him. He tried to move, to follow them, but everything hurt. He called out to them, but they didn't hear, probably because the kitten was mewling again.

oOo

General Hammond reviewed the holiday party plans. Again. Most years, he did a cursory review of what the volunteer team came up with. But this wasn't most years. This time, he had to consider two warring factions within his own command. Morgan's return had not settled the dispute as he had hoped. There were some who believed her and now supported O'Neill and the assertion that he had to set the enemy on the rescue team to prevent something even worse. But others took the same story to mean that O'Neill had put his own concerns ahead of a whole team's safety and thought him more traitorous than ever. Hammond was seriously concerned that opposing groups without work to occupy them would take the O'Neill debate too far and there would be an incident. He took what preventive measures he could.

He'd contacted General Welton upstairs at NORAD and offered to have a shared celebration, ostensibly as a cost savings to both, and had been cheerfully accepted. Hammond would have paid for the whole thing just to have the extra people to distract his own. Welton was contributing food and facility and Hammond decorations and drink. All the liquor would be creatively watered down into festive drinks themed to the multiple year-end holidays. If anyone noticed, they would surely put it down to budget limitations. Or security precautions. Both NORAD and SGC staff held classified information. Therefore, if liquor was allowed at a party, it had to be held on base where security could watch for accidental over-indulgence or anyone being plied with alcohol. Welton was providing the plain-clothed security. Hammond would "accidentally" forget that, and send his own as well, effectively doubling their numbers. He had also informed his staff that they were expected to be especially friendly to NORAD's, to ensure this first combined party was a success. It also meant they would have less time to talk to each other.

Three floors above him, others were quietly making their own plans to make it a memorable event.

oOo

Jack roused from pleasant dreams of hiking over mountains with SG-Bug when he heard the gate open. It had a menacing creak when it opened, and an ominous thump when it closed. *The better to scare you with,* his mind supplied in a Wolf-talking-to-Little-Red-Riding-Hood voice.

He wiggled a little in a vain attempt to rise. The pain came again, and when it eased he saw one of the enforcers coming toward him. The man was impossibly huge when seen from the ground. Jack steeled himself for the dreaded command to come, and for what would follow his failure. The giant bent down, and Jack instinctively cringed.

He could not have been more surprised when the enforcer scooped him delicately up in his arms. He floated past the other Mayree, seeing surprise, anger, and fear in various faces. The ride continued smoothly into a small and blessedly warm room, where he was set carefully on a table. His head lolled to the left, and he could see a fireplace with bowls warming in front of it. The kitten had followed them here, and he hoped the bowls had milk so it would stop its incessant mewling.

"Eat. Kitty." He hoped it would hear his encouragement.

The enforcer's face came into view, blocking the image of the bowls and the fireplace. "What?"

"Feed. Kitty." His words were barely above a whisper.

"You want to be a kitty?" the enforcer asked in confusion.

Jack tried to shake his head, the motion bringing up more blood. "Wanna be bug," his voice was just a sigh now, hardly audible between the cries of that kitten. "Eat. Kitty."

"What did he say, Eramo?"

Even the kitten was afraid of Keyna. It's mewling died to a tiny whimper at the sound of his voice.

The uncertain look on Eramo's face was comical for an enforcer. "He wants to be a bug and eat a kitten, Master."

Keyna came into view now, frowning. He seemed to consider, then turned away and picked up one of the bowls. He mixed a powder into the warm contents.

Jack's belly clenched as he recognized the excruciating healing powder, and he vomited blood. The kitten was nearly as panicked as he felt, its whines high and fast now.

Keyna approached, setting the bowl down nearby and picking up a cloth to dip into it.

Jack cringed as the cloth approached his face, remembering the agony of his prior healings.

Keyna paused, cloth in clear view. "You're afraid," he murmured. "I understand," he reached out a hand and set it on Jack's cheek. "Guilt is what makes it hurt. And you've been very bad for Keyna, haven't you?" He moved his hand, nodding Jack's head for him. "You weren't bad this time, were you? If you didn't do anything wrong, this won't hurt."

The cloth came down, a small light stroke bringing soft glorious warmth instead of searing pain as it had in the past.

Jack gazed at Keyna with gratitude and wonderment.

Keyna smiled down at him, and repeated that Master didn't hurt good Mayra, following it up with another slow touch of the warm cloth. And another.

It was the first gentleness Jack had felt in days, and in his miserable state it nearly moved him to tears.

It continued, reminders about good Mayra accompanied by healing and warmth, until he was clean and healthy on the outside. Jack lay still, limp with the relief from both the physical pain and the fear. He'd been so afraid of what Keyna might do, but Keyna didn't hurt good Mayra. Keyna said so himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack knew there was something wrong with that thought, but it was still too hard to think clearly.

Keyna had a new bowl in his hand now. And a spoon. "Eat, Mayra." Keyna lifted a mouthful to Jack's lips, and Jack obediently opened his mouth.

The pain inside was incredible. Jack convulsed, coughing up blood, and gasping for air. It took several moments to recover. Blearily, he realized Keyna was standing over him.

"Mayra," Keyna said reproachfully. "It hurt because you were bad." He paused. "I will give you another chance. Eat, Mayra." He offered the spoon again.

Jack hesitated, then opened his mouth. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, so he couldn't be sure how to do it right this time. But kindly Keyna was giving him another chance, and he would take it. The liquid hit his tongue, a bittersweet flavor he hadn't noticed the first time. His hopes soared. Surely that was a sign that he hadn't repeated his mistake. The liquid was thick, almost a gel, and he could feel it slide toward his throat. He swallowed, sure he'd do it right this time. It was agony. He felt his body curl, and blood exploding out, the resulting coughs adding to the pain. He could hear Keyna's voice, but he couldn't follow the words over his own rasping breath.

"Stand behind, and use the same words each time." Keyna handed the bowl to Eramo. "He will heal a little inside with each swallow, even if he then spits it up. When he keeps two spoons down in a row, send for me and I will finish. He should come out of this with a belief that he causes his own pain by being bad, and his master helps when he is good." He shook his head. "Pity he's confused. He might have broken if we could have given him more painful healing and punished him for crying out or vomiting."

oOo

"Happy Holidays," Mrs. Welton said warmly, as Colonel and Mrs. Jefferson went to join the dancing. She patted her husband's arm. "They're a lovely couple."

General Welton covered her hand with his and smiled at her. "Yes, dear," he agreed with a perfunctory tone and a twinkle in his eye. Mrs. Welton gave him a playful little slap on the arm.

Hammond privately agreed with her assessment. He was standing with the Weltons, making things easier for the senior officers to approach both Generals at once and exchange the expected formalities. He had noticed Jefferson maneuvering to get between Colonel Wood and Teal'c, helpfully avoiding potential conflict at this holiday party. Jefferson's wife had played right along, the normally reserved woman exclaiming over another's dress and drawing that woman along. Jefferson then had an easy opening to make wry comments about dresses with the other husband, which conveniently meant Jefferson did not have to choose between talking with Wood or Teal'c. Situation averted, and no new hostilities begun.

Yes, Hammond thought they were a lovely couple indeed.

Teal'c approached next, accompanied by Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. Mrs. Welton was no slouch at the role of officer's wife herself. She had needed few introductions, remembering most names from the prior year's party, and complimenting many of the ladies on changes in their hair or the colors of their dresses. Hammond wondered if she, like his own late wife used to, had specifically prepared by reviewing pictures from the last party and chatting with other wives at recent social events on base.

True to form, Mrs. Welton called each of the trio by name. She had a remarkable memory for people's interests as well. She asked Daniel for his opinion on the new exhibit at the museum, and Carter about how her restoration of the Red Chief motorcycle was coming along. With Teal'c, the topic was hockey, and his opinion on the Avalanche's chance this year. He expressed his own opinion, and O'Neill's.

Mrs. Welton laughed. "Dear Colonel O'Neill! He reminds me so much of my grandson."

"Our grandson is six," her husband remarked dryly, earning an elbow in the ribs from his wife and grins from everyone else.

"You know, the first time I met him I was in an elevator on the way up to see Joseph. Must have been a dozen kids from the day care on it, too. Total pandemonium. The kids got off, and I made a joke about how Joseph had once quieted the house by suddenly calling 'hurry, hide!' The kids all scattered, and Joseph smiled at me and said he wasn't going to look for them for a while." She grinned widely now. "The elevator door opened, and we stepped into a busy office area. Colonel O'Neill told me that it still works. Then he called out 'hurry, hide!' and the junior officers all disappeared!"

"They didn't really," Daniel half-asked.

"They did," said a waitress who had paused to hear the story. "I accidentally found one of them hiding in the pantry. He said he couldn't allow his location to be revealed, and took me and a box of éclairs hostage until the end of his shift." She put on a mock serious face. "The éclairs didn't make it."

Everyone laughed.

"Is this really true?" Daniel still couldn't believe it. "Well, I can believe Jack saying that. But people listened?"

"Yes," General Welton confirmed. "Obeying the order of a senior officer." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with it being inventory day."

"You should have seen the look on Colonel O'Neill's face when he saw Joseph!" She made the kind of face a child would when caught being very naughty. "That's why he reminds me of my grandson."

General Welton smiled wryly instead of joining the laughter. "So where is the little snot?" Mrs. Welton elbowed him sharply, and he corrected with a chuckle, "er, tot?"

Major Carter's hand swept up to cover her face, and she turned partly away. Teal'c put an arm over her shoulder and spoke quietly into her ear, then led her away along the wall.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Welton put a hand on Daniel's arm. "I'm so sorry," she said, even though it was her husband's remark that had upset Carter. "We didn't know anything had happened to Colonel O'Neill."

"It's alright." Daniel didn't meet her eyes. "We're, um, we're still hoping everything will turn out ok." He glanced after his companions, seeing Teal'c turn away a concerned man's approach with a warning look.

"Go on," Mrs. Welton gave him a gentle push. "Give them our apologies."

Daniel headed off after the others.

"Sorry about that, George," General Welton said. "I didn't think to check the lists." The military kept lists of casualties, and soldiers missing or killed in action. It was common courtesy in war time to check the lists before any gathering to avoid just the sort of unfortunate comment he had made. But NORAD and SGC were stateside bases whose troops were all deployed domestically. It would be unusual for their people to be on any of the lists.

"I'm the one who should apologize," Hammond said to the pair. "I should have told you there'd been an incident. A controversial one, actually. But since I can't say much other than that, I didn't bring it up at all."

Welton nodded sagely. "This wouldn't be the real reason for the joint celebration, would it, George? Some fresh faces from my command to distract yours from their controversy?"

"A little intrigue for the man who has everything?" Hammond eyed him cautiously, waiting to see whether he was annoyed about his actions or would take it in stride.

The wry smile was back. "Merry Christmas to you, too, George."

oOo

Jack followed Keyna toward a large, dimly lit structure a hundred yards or so behind the main building. He wondered with trepidation what normally went on in there, and, more importantly, what was about to happen now. He thought frantically about what he had done wrong -- if he couldn't guess, Keyna always set him up to repeat a mistake. As they entered, he heard tiny voices crying out for their mothers. Did they keep the youngest Mayra children in a barn while their parents worked?

Keyna, undisturbed by the tiny cries, led him to the back where a half-wall partitioned off a section perhaps five feet square. He stopped, turning to Jack with a wicked smirk that sent chills down Jack's back. He could feel the blood draining from his face, maybe even his whole head, as he dizzied with fear. What horror had the malevolent Keyna dreamed up involving a baby...

The oily smile widened, clearly enjoying the moment.

Jack stood, frozen, eyes on Keyna, refusing to look in the pen. He could avoid the sight, but not the sound. Innocent little voices, calling for their mothers. Some quavered with the cold, and Jack trembled, too. Would all of them see their mothers again?

Keyna gestured at him.

"I...I don't understand, Keyna." He was permitted to ask for clarification of tasks, if not rules.

"Go inside. Keep them warm until their mother returns from hunting in the foothills." The devious glint in Keyna's eyes did not match the innocent words.

Jack moved woodenly toward the door, dreading what means of keeping babies warm he might find in there. Keyna had said that their mother had gone to the foothills. That was a solid two-hour walk away; whatever he had to do would continue most of the day.

There was nothing in the stall except some straw. And the babies. Except they weren't baby people, they were baby...somethings. He had a brief glimpse of exuberant puppy-ish gamboling before they quieted to watch him enter.

They were puppy sized, and had dog-like muzzles, except for the fangs curving down past their chins, but that was where the similarity to dogs ended. They had oversized round ears, like Mickey Mouse, which exaggerated their cartoon expressions. Their bulging eyes swiveled like a lizard's and, like the amphibians, matched the greenish-brown color of their skin. A twitch of motion caught his attention and he realized that they had prehensile tails like monkeys, two of them holding tufts of straw in the curl of their tails.

"Warm, Mayra," Keyna reminded, walking away with a chuckle.

"Warm," he repeated quietly, wondering just how you kept dog-lizard-monkey-mice warm.

"Mommy warm, Mommy warm," the 'puppies' chanted, dancing around in the straw.

"You understand me?"

"Mommy warm, Mommy warm!" Their little voices grew more urgent. "Warm me!"

So they didn't understand, they just sounded like they were talking. "Mommy's not here, guys," he said sympathetically.

"Mommy gone! Mommy gone! Mommyyyy!" They were almost frantic now, leaping at the walls and door, howling for their missing mother.

Jack pressed himself against a bit of wall, still doing reconnaissance, deciding what to do. They did understand him, at least partially. "Shhhhh." He drew out the sound, trying to get their attention.

They dropped suddenly, silent and wary. "Quiet, quiet, quiet," the little voices whispered. Tiny ears, noses, and eyes twitched around in barely concealed excitement. "Prey? Prey?" It wasn't long before they focused on the only new object in their well-known little home. "Prey!"

Jack's eyes widened as the little beasts clearly began to stalk him. They weren't very big, or strong, but they had numbers on their side. And the pack mentality. Two of them came directly at him, double rows of sharp white teeth now showing between the long fangs, while the others tried to circle behind in the small stall.

"Oh, shit."

oOo

Denby Croeller doodled on the back of a status sheet, feeling sorry for himself. He was the unfortunate one to draw duty on the night of the big holiday party. It was supposed to be really good this year, too, since NORAD had thrown in with SGC on it. Good food, good drinks, a live band. He sighed. Did they really need someone to sit here and stare at the closed iris?

The door to the Control Room opened, and he swiveled casually in his chair. "Hey, Buddy." His only entertainment tonight would be talking to the janitor. He jerked to a fully upright position when he saw the Colonel frowning at him, hands on hips. "Can I help you, sir?" He'd long ago given up "ma'am" and referred to everyone higher than himself as "sir." It was considered gender-neutral and nowadays a guy was more likely to run into women who were feminists and preferred "sir" than those who were feminine and preferred "ma'am."

Morgan stared at him for a few more seconds, then grinned and turned her hands around to show two brightly colored drinks. "Happy Holidays." She offered him one.

He looked at it with mingled desire and distrust, clearly wondering if he was being tested.

"Don't worry. No alcohol in it. I'm not about to get you in trouble for drinking on the job." She chuckled. "Or me in trouble for contributing to the delinquency of a Major."

"Sir, I'm just a sergeant."

She nodded. "A sergeant who got stuck with duty on the night of the big party." She took a drink out of one glass. "I'm just a Colonel who needed an excuse to get away from the noise of the big party." She set his drink down near him. "Stop worrying, Sergeant. It's true. I'm expected to attend, but I'm not a party type." She stepped back and reached for something just outside the door.

He watched, still semi-suspicious. Since when did ranking officers bring drinks to guys like him?

She pulled a small plastic cart into view. It was covered with a colorful cloth and carried a dozen glasses like the one she'd given him, along with several dessert plates. "I volunteered to be the welcome wagon this year."

Morgan stepped forward with a plate, leaving it and a plastic fork on the table, then hit the intercom button. "Garmond? You there?"

"Yes, ma'am," a cheerful voice answered. "Ready, willing, and able to neutralize any extra cake on your command!"

Morgan laughed. "Croeller here is understandably suspicious of the unexpected. Can you pass on any intel?"

"Go for it, Croeller. It's not much, but it's all we're gonna get. And it's the only time you and I are gonna get served by a Colonel."

Croeller laughed. "Ain't that the truth!" He glanced quickly at Morgan to make sure he hadn't upset her.

She toasted him with her own glass and took a sip.

"Thanks, Garmond. Happy holidays."

"You, too."

He switched the intercom off and picked up the cake. "Sorry about that, sir. I just didn't expect anything."

"Just doing your duty, Croeller. You *should* be suspicious, and you did the right thing to check out my story." She took another sip of her drink. "You can check with anyone else on the lower levels if you want. I'm working my way up."

He smiled. "No need, sir." He took a bite of cake.

She smiled back. "This welcome-wagon thing is actually pretty good. I'd rather talk to real people than schmooz about the weather and 'how lovely everyone looks!'" She shrilled the last part in a flouncy girlish voice.

Croeller laughed and toasted her with his glass before taking a sip.

She caught his head just before it hit the frosting on his cake, and eased it down onto the table. "Not suspicious enough, Croeller." Morgan bent over him and hit the button to open the doors to the Gate Room. Carter, Teal'c, and Jackson walked in, in full gear. It hadn't taken them long to find a comment to inspire Carter's crocodile tears, so they had had time to gather everything they wanted to bring.

Morgan gave them the thumbs up, then got to work. She opened the iris and keyed in the symbols. The gate connected with its usual flash of blue. Morgan stood, seeing the trio looking up at her. She clicked the intercom to them. "Good luck."

"You, too." Daniel returned.

The three of them walked up the ramp and through the gate. Morgan closed the wormhole, and the iris, and set about putting the console back to normal so it wouldn't be obvious what had happened. Hopefully, Croeller would think he had just dozed off on a boring shift.

"Colonel!"

She froze, then turned slowly. "General."

"What did you just do?"

"I'm not sure, sir," she answered carefully. "I have a bit of a head injury from an accident in the gym. I *might* have just sent a team through to retrieve Colonel O'Neill."

"You might have?" he clearly didn't believe her.

She nodded. She was happy to help with a rescue, but she wasn't going to get court-martialed if she could avoid it. Since she could hardly use the classic slipped-on-a-bar-of-soap story to explain multiple actions, a head injury in the gym seemed her best bet. There was no sense lying to the General about anything else though – and honesty would encourage him to go along with the head-injury claim instead of prosecuting. He wanted O'Neill back as much as they did; he just hadn't been ready to send another team into the same risk as Wood's.

"And what might you have done to Croeller?"

"I might have accidentally dropped some of my medicine into his drink. If I did, he should wake up in another ten minutes or so."

"You realize these are court-martial offenses?"

"I might, if it weren't for this head injury. Is an injury a mitigating factor in a court-martial?" She knew it was, but it couldn't hurt to point that out.

"Come with me, Colonel." He turned and walked briskly away.

She followed him to the briefing room, where he ordered her to monitor the Gate and keep watch on Croeller's behalf until he woke. He strode into his office, returning shortly with a manila file folder in his hands.

Hammond stood and glared at her for a solid minute. She looked uncomfortable but did not break eye contact. "Who did you send through the Gate?"

"I'm not sure I recall, sir."

He glared at her again. "I need names, Colonel."

She stiffened, but didn't answer. Yet. She just wanted him to know she was reluctant to inform on fellow officers. This wasn't like the last time, where she'd defied all his requests, orders, and demands to know how O'Neill was being controlled. The names of the rogue team would be on file soon enough. O'Neill's control mechanism never would, if she could help it.

"To put on this." He pushed the folder toward her.

She opened it, expecting to see charges documented.

It was an authorization for a mission to rescue Colonel O'Neill. "You had this already filled out?"

"Someone had to go." His tone turned icy. "*I* usually choose who and when." He paused for effect. "Unless you'd rather stick with the court-martial approach, I suggest you fill in some names."

She stared at him for a moment, some things just now sinking in. "You knew." It wasn't a question. "You arrived just *after* they went through. Too late to stop them. You, personally, not a security team. You let us do it." She should have realized as soon as she saw the General himself. "You knew." He must have let it happen this way to get a team out with no risk to himself.

"I suspected," he corrected coldly. "I *hoped* that my officers would come to me if they had a feasible idea of how to rescue Colonel O'Neill. But I *planned* for several possibilities." His voice softened. "I'm disappointed in you, Colonel."

She dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. We're sorry." She wrote the three names on the authorization form. She handed it to him, and he took it without even glancing at the names. He probably could have written them himself.

"I suggest you get back to Sergeant Croeller. I can protect the others with this," he indicated the folder. "But there's not much I can do if he wants to prosecute you for poisoning him."

Her eyes widened. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She hurried back toward the Control Room. Now that it would be known they went out on Croeller's shift, she could hardly try to convince him he'd dozed off and missed a few empty moments. And he wouldn't believe he'd been sleep-working. He probably wouldn't accept that he'd fallen asleep talking to her and she'd done his job for him instead of just waking him up. She thought frantically about what else she could say.

If she could have seen Hammond above, still watching, she might have realized he was trying to teach her a lesson.


	4. Obedience

Keyna returned to the barn hours later, strolling alongside another man, taller and younger than he. Blenna was rosy-cheeked from the day in the hills, chatting animatedly about his beasts and their chances in the winter competition. The young man had sold everything three years ago to buy two beasts, an aging male who had been a solid performer in his prime, and an untried young female. He'd survived on the male's modest contest earnings and sales of two crops of cubs with unknown potential. The one cub he'd kept, a male from the first litter, was now of an age for his first competition. Blenna had high hopes; if the young beast performed well, he would bring in money as well as raise the value of his new young siblings. Blenna's business would take off. *If* the young beast did well.

He had the talent. But the beast also had a mercurial temperament. He was often aggressive to the point of vicious, even in the barn, but inexplicably would back off the kill when hunting. Blenna could hardly expect big sales of beasts that were only good for injuring their mayree handlers and letting prey escape at the last moment. In the barn, the presence of the mother beast settled him and made it possible to handle him. Blenna had borrowed Keyna's mayree as cub-sitter to see if the mother's beneficial influence extended to the hunt. It turned out to be an excellent idea; the younger beast had his best performance ever. In fact, his only major flaw had been backing off the kill. If Blenna could correct that by the time of the competition, his future would be assured.

"Thank you for this day, my friend, Keyna." Blenna tore his eyes from the mayra struggling to lead the promising young beast, glancing at his other mayra easily handling the more tractable parent animals before turning to Keyna.

"I am happy to have been of some small service," Keyna demurred appropriately, of course. Blenna was his friend, but that didn't mean he would give up the social advantage of being owed a favor.

In truth, Blenna had done Keyna the favor. That first horrific beating had changed his troublesome mayra. He'd progressed at an amazing rate in the days since. He was acutely aware of everything, and rarely made a mistake despite pressure from Keyna during the day and his fellow slaves at night. As he'd expected, the others ostracized him. They hit and spit and scolded him incessantly before finally allowing him to crawl behind the feces pile late at night to sleep. They had not, unfortunately, inflicted the level of injury Keyna had hoped for; minor enough for his mind to be clear but serious enough that he was unable to follow the command to accept a painful healing in silence. Every morning, the mayra managed to make it through without screaming. Today might finally be the day he broke, though. Keyna almost laughed with anticipation of what he expected to see in the barn after all these hours.

Rahi were born hunters and the little predators had probably been practicing their craft on their hapless victim all day. His Mayra would no doubt be exhausted from the aggravation -- and the sound, rahi cubs were notoriously yappy -- and that would make him easier to manipulate this evening. He congratulated himself on his ingenuity in breaking this new Mayra.

"If the cubs have done well, I would like to borrow your mayra again on other days. I would be happy to provide the healing herbs each time." As a beast merchant, he knew the cubs had likely done damage to the mayra as they entertained themselves.

"Of course," Keyna agreed happily. Gaining more favors in exchange for help breaking his challenging mayra was the perfect bargain. They agreed on several more days. Keyna couldn't let favors add up indefinitely, even for his poor but talented friend. He considered buying one of the cubs – another favor that Blenna would be sure to repay – and asking that its training be the payment for his mayra's cub-sitting services. He imagined himself using a friendly one as an example of obedience for his mayree or a mean one's care as a task for them. He wondered if he could do both – could Blenna train one to be obedient to Keyna and vicious to mayree?

Their pleasant conversation ended as they opened the barn door. It was suspiciously quiet inside. Exchanging a surprised look with Blenna, they both picked up their pace. Cursing under his breath, Keyna vowed severe punishment if his Mayra had killed the cubs. They were not champions or anything, but they did have value. More than one recalcitrant Mayra, that was for sure.

He strode to the end of the barn, grabbing the top edge of the stall, already drawing a breath to yell. What he saw stunned him to stillness.

"I don't believe it," Blenna breathed. Neither did Keyna, or the two handlers who had come to look after putting the male beasts into their kennels.

The Mayra was lying on his side in the straw, half curled, with cubs cuddled all around him for warmth. One lay in the curve above his foot, another in the crook behind his knees, one stretched along his back, and another at his belly. Two snuggled in his arms, and one more rested a proprietary muzzle on the mayra's neck. The eighth and smallest lay on top of the Mayra.

Eyes and ears twitched toward them, but the cold-blooded little beasts were loath to leave their warm berths to come to the wall. The Mayra didn't do even that much.

He was asleep.

oOo

Jack had wakened when the puppies around him all stirred at once. He lay, eyes still closed, breathing smoothly, trying to assess what was going on around him. He hoped it was nothing; he didn't want to leave. He'd had his best sleep in days here, cozy and warm, surrounded by his new friends. Who cared if they were homely?

On closer look, the creatures were efficiently built for hunting, if not for beauty. He wondered if they'd been engineered by the Goa'uld. They sported scales, not fur, like tiny armor-plating. Being covered with miniature shields was an advantage for a hunter. Their bulging eyes seemed to have tiny scales of their own, but not eyelids. When they slept -- or had straw thrown at them by a littermate -- their Mickey Mouse ears would flip down over their eyes with a little clapping sound. They had retractable claws, and had kneaded him with them like Earth cats would. They exuded a kind of oil that made them fragrant – ok, smelly – and kind of slippery, especially around the neck. All in all, they were ideal little predators.

He'd had plenty of time to notice details before he'd talked them into snuggling up for warmth. The little guys had personalities, too, like any pack animals would. He'd started to give them ranks to separate them, but that was a depressing reminder of the loss of his own position. He'd switched to mouse names instead. One was clearly the alpha male, with the others deferring to him. Jack named that one Mighty Mouse. Another pair hung out together and Mighty didn't like the others paying attention to them, so Jack assumed they were his girlfriends and called them Minnie and Millie. Four more spent their time play-fighting each other. Jack couldn't remember whether Tom or Jerry from the cartoon was the mouse, so he dubbed one Tom and another Jerry. Running low on famous Earth mice, he'd split the next name between the other pair, christening one Speedy and the other Gonzalez.

Mighty, true to form as leader, had insisted on sleeping with his muzzle on Jack's neck as a way to demonstrate his dominance, his body curled around Jack's warm head. Minnie and Millie curled in his arms, the only cubs to be fully encircled by warm mammal flesh. Short squabbles had sorted out positions for Speedy, Gonzalez, Tom, and Jerry, leaving just the smallest one hesitant and alone, driven off by his larger littermates. They expected the runt to die, and saw no particular purpose in delaying the event. Sympathizing with the abused and forlorn creature, Jack thought briefly of sharing his own name with it.

Instead, Jack called him Mickey, giving the most popular mouse's name to the least popular mouse-lizard-monkey-pup, and had suggested it lay on top of him. No one would argue for that post, which was the coldest of all. The little one had climbed up, happy to live that much longer, but still despairing over its obvious exclusion. Jack pointed out that Mickey had the best tactical position, even if it were colder.

He had described the importance of tactics, not sure how much was clear to the animals, but hoping he'd at least console the littlest one. They seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice, and most of them dozed off before he did. It had been the best time he'd had since his arrival on this planet and he held still, hoping it could go on.

A strange voice said "I don't believe it" and Jack knew the fun was over. He waited for a command.

The door opened and a husky shape slipped in. The mousketeers all leaped up at once, and Jack tensed when little claws dug in all over as they got traction to jump to what had to be their mother. The animal was big, like a mastiff dog on Earth. She sniffed him suspiciously, one eye watching him while the other rotated as if counting the babies. Jack waited to see what she would do to the stranger in her home. Keyna might be with the stranger who had spoken, so he didn't dare try to talk to her. The view from below the animal was daunting, to say the least. He felt like the guy in Jurassic Park, holding still in front of the Tyrannosaurus and hoping not to be eaten.

She sniffed her cubs next, apparently deciding they were unharmed, and lay in the straw. She opened her powerful jaws wide, revealing hunks of meat caught between the rows of teeth. The cubs dove for it, making an utterly disgusting show of digging gobbets out and eating them.

"Mayra, come!"

*That* voice he recognized. He stood promptly, taking care to move smoothly and quietly toward the door so as not to upset the mother beast. Her green-brown eyes swiveled after him, but she didn't move from her cubs as he left the stall.

Jack stood before Keyna, showing attention by looking at his chest, which rose and fell deeply with repressed anger. This was clearly not what Keyna had had in mind when he'd left Jack here. Jack tried to reassure himself that Keyna wouldn't punish him for the day's effort. He'd heard Keyna himself say that he did not inflict punishment without reason, if only because of the behavioral impact on the mayree. They might not behave at all if they felt they'd be punished whether they did or not. He'd only been ordered to keep the animals warm, and he had done that – could Keyna still find fault?

Keyna exchanged pleasantries with the other man before leading the way out of the building. "You did well, mayra. Blenna is pleased."

"Thank you, Keyna."

Keyna gave several more compliments as they walked. Jack duly thanked him each time, growing more relieved with every statement. It seemed that Keyna couldn't punish him, so he was taking the opposite route and giving some positive reinforcement for a change.

They reached the door of the compound. Keyna waved Jack toward the training room. "There will be punishment."

"But you said I did well!" As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. The comment had not included the word "mayra" and he should not have responded to it. He'd been tricked.

Keyna's smile spread across his face, his good humor suddenly restored. "There will be punishment. _Mayra_."

oOo

Jack walked toward the mayree enclosure slowly, feet dragging, head hung low. He'd thought his punishment couldn't possibly get any worse. Leave it to Keyna to find a way. The reminder of it hung from Jack's neck, one of the long leather strips, its dangling end gaudily decorated with seared stones.

He was so miserable, he wanted to die. No, that wasn't strictly true. He wanted Keyna to die. Preferably in a way that would make the top of the locker-room worst-way-to-die list. He didn't even bother with pleasant fantasies of what he could do. Realistically, it would never happen.

Realistically.

Realistically, he should have given up as soon as his situation was clear.

In that one simple thought, he made up his mind. He would stop waiting for SG-1 or Morgan or Hammond or anyone else to attempt a rescue that was likely to fail anyway. Sometimes, you lose. Some of those sometimes, it was worth fighting until you found a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. And some of the time, it was better to give up.

The gate opened with its usual ominous groan. A group of men saw him, and started his way, no doubt intending to give meek Jack his first 'lesson' of the evening. Well, he wasn't going to accept petty abuse. Not tonight. He squared his shoulders, and looked them straight in the eye.

They hesitated, then stopped, talking quietly to each other, eyeing him but not approaching.

Jack shook his head in disgust. Cowards. They only wanted easy prey. He looked around. There were more new faces here than he realized; only he and Ronamo were still here from the group they came in with, and no one who pre-dated them. Everyone else was newer. He hadn't really noticed because the new ones had been quick to pick up the old timers' attitude towards him, and he hadn't cared whether old fists or new were hitting him when he wouldn't fight back for fear of Keyna's retribution. Now, he looked for a new person, someone who hadn't yet been broken.

He picked out a nice big man, who was scowling and talking angrily to the air, doubtless a brand new arrival who had not accepted his fate.

Slowly, being careful not to make too much noise, Jack walked around behind him. He pulled back his arm and walloped the big guy in the kidney as hard as he could.

As expected, it earned a howl of rage, and the man whirled.

"You're even uglier from the front!" Jack jeered.

"I'll kill you!" the man roared.

"Try it!" Jack yelled back, trying not to sound too encouraging. He spat on him for good measure, and the man pounced. Jack tried not to smile; his partner was motivated and probably capable, it should all be over soon. Jack twisted his head back and away, extending his neck to its fullest, making it easier to break.

oOo

Keyna paused outside the door, considering what to do. His watchers had followed their orders well, as always. They observed the enclosure each night, mostly noting the behavior of the inhabitants, but also monitoring for the special conditions Keyna set for certain mayree. In Jonamo's case, after that one severe beating, they were to stop physical altercations when his damage reached a certain level. After several frustrating nights of minor injuries, it had finally happened.

Jonamo lay beyond the door, awaiting his master's action. He had a damaged eye, which would be nicely sensitive to salt-laden healing compound. The enforcers had confirmed a broken arm – or perhaps they had broken it themselves to be certain – and Keyna could dig through the flesh to the bone itself for direct healing. Not really necessary, but very likely to elicit screams of pain. He always commanded the mayra to bear his healing in silence, hoping that the despair of being punished for crying out on top of the pain itself would break his spirit. Up till now, the mayra had managed to remain quiet. This time it should be impossible.

Keyna's thoughts were not where he expected them to be, on whether he should heal the internal injuries and the wrenched neck first, ramping up to the more intense efforts on his eye and arm, or to cause the greater pain first, and hope that the mayra would be so shaken that he would add punishments by continuing to scream as the lesser injuries were healed. Instead of debating the choice, he was considering the mayra's mental state. The mayra had tried to get another to kill him. Did that mean he had already broken, perhaps irretrievably? Should Keyna once again use the 'kind master' approach as a balance?

He decided against it. He'd spent far too much time already on this mayra. Most slaves were broken in a few days, and fully trained in a handful more. It was not only efficient for the trainer, it was better for a captive's mind to have the trauma of enslavement over with quickly and his new life as a mayra begun. Keyna would be doing the mayra a service to crush him today. He would order the mayra to silence, and punish him if he so much as moaned during his healing. The eye and arm would guarantee at least two corrections. When it was over, and the mayra had thanked him properly for restoring him, he would punish him for attempting suicide. Perhaps even a double punishment – one for trying to kill himself and another for attempting to steal his own value from Keyna. Yes, that would do nicely, he decided. It would reinforce that there was absolutely no way out other than utter submission to Keyna's will, and further the mayra's surrender. If he succeeded in killing himself later, then Keyna would just take the financial loss.

This might be the day, he thought cheerfully. Four punishments, with the chance of more, surely that would finally break him. Plus, his opponent still had the right and duty to do to Jonamo what Jonamo had done to him based on Keyna's earlier order about fighting other mayree. As a final bonus, Keyna's handlers would be angry at the mayra and find their own ways to add to his misery. They could not let it be known that they were watching, so Keyna gave them a mayree female each night to entertain the men not actively watching. If they had to enter the enclosure, they would do so on pretense of returning the girl, and would just "happen" to see the misbehavior. They had dutifully done so last night, but would not be at all pleased to have lost a night with a woman.

Keyna smiled. Yes, this could finally be the day. He reached for the door, then paused, schooling his features into a scowl. It would not do to walk in looking happy. His own role today was to be the vengeful lord.

oOo

Jack carefully held the six leashes in one hand as he opened the stall door. Tom and Mickey leapt hysterically, shouting their glee at the return of their littermates. Jack followed the cubs into the enclosure and closed the door. All eight cubs bounded and jumped and cried out to each other in excitement, making a comical picture as they were quickly entangled in the leashes. Jack went first to Minnie, who was half-suspended by her choke-chain leash as another had twisted her hind legs out from under her. He slipped a knee under her to support her weight as he unwound both leashes from her, listening to the others as he worked.

"We were outside!"

"We chased, we chased!"

"We bit!"

"Bite the thing that smells like laxila!" Jack didn't recognize that word but it was obviously the name of some scent the animals knew.

"Bite it! Bite it!"

"I found it!" one boasted, and others bragged of their accomplishments. It sounded a lot like a locker room after a team returned intact from an unexpected battle, reliving and retelling the events in detail.

"My turn, my turn!" Mickey yowled, using Jerry's back as a vault and trying to jump over the half door. Jerry snapped at him, narrowly missing a leg.

Jack went for Mighty next, suspecting the leader would take revenge on any other male given attention before him. The little beast scampered right over Jack's back and down the other side as soon as he was free. Jack grinned at the antics as he belted another leash around his own waist to keep it away from the little guys.

It was his fourth day with the animals, and he had taken the six larger cubs out to be the 'crowd' at their big brother Bruto's practice competition. If Blenna had wanted noise and confusion, then it had been a big success. The cubs had jumped and howled and run crazily about. Jack had managed to get them to run in the same direction as Bruto once or twice, which seemed to please Blenna. They had hunted a rubbery practice target, and Jack learned a new respect for the power of the animals' jaws as they half-destroyed it.

Jack, still following the pack's pecking order, was untangling Millie when Tarmo returned with the mother animal. He opened the door to let her join her cubs. The moment a crack appeared, Mickey zoomed through and straight for the barn door.

"Mayree, catch him," Blenna ordered tersely. Mickey may be the smallest, but he still represented future income. The three mayree obediently trotted out the door after the cub.

"There!" Carnamo called, pointing toward the woods. The others looked in time to see a shadow disappearing into the trees. They ran after him. If the cub got too far, he'd be really hard to find in the dappled light. They pursued him back down the path they'd used with the others earlier. Carnamo, who had the dubious honor of handling the vicious Bruto, thought Mickey was tracking his siblings' scent to see where they'd been. He cursed when Mickey suddenly darted off the trail to the left. They followed, arms raised to protect their faces as they plunged through the trees.

They would have run right past Mickey, half hidden under the low hanging branches of a tree, if he hadn't started squealing, a high pitched sound like a scream. Jack bent to look, one hand already reaching out. Mickey seemed to be tearing at a root, holding it tight in his teeth and whipping his whole body back and forth to dislodge it.

Suddenly there was another animal there, twisting up out of its hole and curling to snap at Mickey. Jack realized that the little Rahi had been pulling on the bigger animal's tail, not a root. He looked for a stick to help beat off the other creature. Tarmo was doing the same thing, all of them now under the tree. Carnamo was closest, just inches from the action, watching intently for a chance to grab Mickey without being bitten by either combatant. The animals were screaming at each other, wordless roars of anger and determination.

"There's only one!"

Jack glanced toward the other slaves before realizing he was hearing the badger-like animal's voice. The others didn't seem to pay attention to it.

"Only one! Get it from under! From under!" It stomped its front feet, then its back feet on the ground. "This way!" Jack realized it must be signaling its underground companions about where the enemy was, sort of like beavers and prairie dogs on Earth. It repeated the stomping sequence; front legs first then back legs, aiming them for Mickey, who still gripped his tail.

He hesitated, unsure why no one else was reacting to the obvious threat. There was a ripple in the bare ground under the tree and Jack shouted. "More of them! They're coming up from underground!" He jumped into the tree, one arm hugging the trunk to keep himself off the ground. Mickey did a little hop, reaching with his prehensile monkey tail and grabbing the branch. He pulled hard, and ended up dangling from it, his teeth still buried in the other animal's tail. Tarmo rolled away as the ground erupted, kicking furiously to dislodge an animal from his foot. Carnamo was suddenly in the center of a flurry of teeth and claws. He screamed and flailed as the badgers, believing him to be the one assailing their comrade, attacked.

Jack leapt away from the tree, diving onto a branch much too small to hold his weight. It broke, as he hoped it would, and he landed on it a few feet away. He picked it up and began striking at the animals.

Suddenly, there was a deeper battle cry. Even through the melee, it sent a chill through Jack. If fury had a sound of its own, this would be it. Something burly knocked Jack aside, and he jumped back for the safety of the tree. Bruto had joined the fray, and was quickly decimating the enemy force. Tarmo reached out a cautious hand to try to snag Carnamo's foot, scrambling away as sharp teeth appeared instantly at his fingertips.

A new battle cry echoed oddly, quickly answered by Bruto's own roar. His parents appeared, rushing into sight with another stereo scream, and joined the fight. Every sound intensified as the battle was joined. Even through the action, Jack marveled at how like a human battle this was, with war cries from both sides, calls to others to support or beware, shouts of pain…

Jack, mindful of what had almost happened to Tarmo, used his stick to try to push Carnamo away from the cloud of teeth, claws, and blood. The branch was snatched with a jerk so hard it felt like it would tear his arm out of its socket instead of just the wood from his hand. He shared a look with Tarmo across the carnage, and the other slave just shrugged, not knowing what else they could do.

"We have to do something!"

"No, Mayra!"

Jack was so startled by the sound from behind him that he nearly jumped back into the tree. He hadn't even realized Blenna was there, but of course he had to have been the one who released Bruto and then the other adults.

Blenna was watching the battle intently. "Kill, Bruto," he encouraged, "Kill!"

It went on for several more minutes, the badgers giving way and the mobile ones disappearing back under ground. The Rahi, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the fighting, ripped the bodies of the remaining badgers to shreds, whipping them around like rag dolls. Even little Mickey shook a badger leg like a trophy, his high-pitched growls trilling over the baritone snarls of his elders.

"Did he kill, Tarmo?"

Jack was stunned that the first question out of Blenna's mouth was about his beast's performance. Why wasn't he talking about Carnamo, and how to get him away from the animals still raging around him?

"I'm not certain, Master." Tarmo answered, his wary gaze remaining on the beasts, clearly concerned that they might turn on the humans if the bodies of their enemies did not appease them. "I believe he killed one that dared to go for his neck, but I cannot be sure."

"This may have been just what he needed, a full-out battle to whet his appetite." Blenna looked happily at Bruto, who was using his front teeth to tear at a now unidentifiable part of a badger. He gave the four beasts some time to enjoy their kill.

Jack chafed at the delay, but was afraid to speak. He caught Tarmo's eye, giving an exaggerated look at Carnamo, then back at Tarmo. Tarmo shook his head slightly, then went back to observing the beasts as they slowly began to calm.

"Take Bulleto, Tarmo."

Tarmo gave a command, and the father beast paused, a hunk of meat hanging grotesquely out of his mouth. Tarmo gave the command again. The beast, most experienced of the group, grudgingly dropped his prize and went to him. Tarmo took a moment to look him over.

"He has only minor wounds, Master." Tarmo reached for something, frowned, then wrapped one arm around the animals neck to hold him. Jack uncoiled one of the leashes from his waist and offered it. Tarmo accepted it gratefully, looping it around Bulleto's neck. Blenna held out a hand, and Tarmo gave him the end of the leash.

"Now the female."

Tarmo called to her. She was less experienced, having had few competitions before Blenna purchased her for breeding, and did not respond immediately. Tarmo called again with no results. He half-rose, crouching beneath the tree but getting his head above hers, and gave the command a third time in a rougher tone. She finally came to him, favoring one front leg.

He ordered her down, reinforcing who was in control, before kneeling beside her. "She has a serious gash in her side and minor injuries in addition to the leg, Master." Jack handed over a leash, and Tarmo applied it with a stern jerk, apparently continuing the reminder about dominance. He handed her leash to Blenna.

"The little one."

Tarmo hobbled around to the other side to avoid crossing in front of Bruto, who was snarling curses at the animal corpses in his mouth and all around. Tarmo gave the command, probably as a first bit of training for the youngster, then grabbed Mickey bodily and dragged him to Blenna. He expertly flipped him sideways and back, one arm across his jaw to hold the sharp little teeth away. "Face and forepaws," he reported. "Minor, but should be healed to prevent infection."

"Good. We may make something of you after all." Blenna patted the little beast fondly. "Give him to the Mayra."

Tarmo blinked, momentarily confused because there were three mayree present, but quickly realizing the yet-unnamed one was the obvious intent. He twisted around and handed Mickey over to Jack, swallowing and hiding a cringe as he looked back at the last and most difficult of the Rahi.

"Get Bruto."

"Yes, Master." He took a deep breath before half-standing again and giving the command to Bruto.

The beast ignored him.

Tarmo took a step closer, and gave the command again, the quiver in his voice ruining the stern tone. When he still got no response, he gave the command a third time and reached toward Bruto.

The beast lunged at his arm with a roar. Tarmo jerked his arm back but followed it up with a foot to Bruto's muzzle and another stern command. He kept the motion going, either on purpose or because his injured leg couldn't hold his weight on its own. He dropped down on top of Bruto as the beast pulled away from the kick, and pinned its neck to the ground. Bruto growled furiously and struggled to rise. Tarmo held fast, a terrified look on his face. If the beast did escape, it could quickly kill him.

They struggled for a minute or two until Bruto decided it was not worth it. He grunted, and lay still, glaring at his captor.

"Good, Tarmo," Blenna complimented. He turned to Jack. "Mayra, give him another leash."

Jack reached down to his waist before remembering there were no more. "There are no more, Blenna."

Blenna pursed his lips, thinking. "That will do, Mayra." He indicated the decorated leather strip dangling from Jack's own neck.

Jack froze, unsure of what to do. "I – I don't understand, Blenna."

"Give Tarmo the leash from your neck, Mayra."

"I, y-, er, n-, uh-" he stammered, almost babbling as he tried to figure out what to do. He could not refuse any command, so he needed to hand it over. But Keyna had ordered him never to remove it, so he couldn't. If he tried to explain, would he be punished for speaking without being asked a question? No matter what he did, he was at risk of being punished.

Tarmo, still nervously pinning Bruto, yelled. "Mayra, why do you hesitate?"

Jack was the lowest among the low, and had to answer to other mayree as well. He gave a grateful glance to Tarmo. "Keyna told me never to remove it, master Blenna, mayree Tarmo." He was careful to use names, adding the qualifiers in case Blenna didn't like being addressed along with a slave. "I don't know what to do."

"Give it to Tarmo, mayra," Blenna ordered. "You can have it back as soon as we get the beasts back in the barn. Keyna will understand."

Jack swallowed, and slowly passed it to Tarmo. He hoped Blenna was right, or better yet, that Keyna never found out about it.

Blenna straightened, and Tarmo followed suit, avoiding a vicious snap as he brought Bruto in line beside him. Blenna frowned at Carnamo, still motionless on the ground. He looked around, then sighed. "We'll have to come back for him, and hope the badgers don't get him first."

"Master?"

"What is it, Tarmo?"

Jack felt a ping of jealousy that Tarmo was listened to when he spoke. He hadn't even had to make the gestures to request permission. Jack had learned the hard way to hold out both hands, his left hand palm up to show he had something to offer with his right palm down to show submission, if he wished to speak. A social equal would use the same gesture, but with the dominant right hand palm up to show his offering had value and left palm down to offer the listener the courtesy of refusal. Both hands palm up was insistence to be heard, and earned a mayra like him severe repercussions for insolence. Both hands palm down was the request for mercy.

"Could I run back and get another leash, perhaps a stretcher, while you wait here with the rahi?"

Blenna considered. "I need you to help with the rahi. The mayra can go." He waved his permission.

Jack raced off, hoping Carnamo could hold on until he was given the healing ointment. He cleared the path in record time, and sped up in the open.

"Mayra!"

*Keyna! Oh, god, it was Keyna!* Jack reacted badly from the surprise and horror, his limbs jerking so hard that he sprawled on the ground. He stayed there, lying face down in the silty dirt, breath coming in short gasps that had nothing to do with his sprint. Keyna's feet quickly appeared in his peripheral vision.

"What – how – " The man was almost apoplectic with rage. "How dare you try to escape!"

He hadn't said the word 'mayra,' Jack didn't dare respond. He held as still as his pounding heart and rasping breath allowed, terrified of what would probably come next, listening carefully for any sentence that might allow him to speak and explain.

"You know what the penalty for this is!" Keyna voice was low and rough.

Jack held both hands out in front of him, palms down. He didn't dare even ask permission to speak; Keyna was too angry to listen. He could only hope he'd have a chance before the unthinkable penalty was carried out.

Tarmo appeared, topless and half-hopping on his injured leg, using his shirt as a makeshift sack to carry Mickey. Slightly behind him came Blenna, one eye watching the movement of his prized beast as it walked beside Tarmo, the other on the path ahead.

"My friend Keyna!" Blenna relaxed as he approached. "My heart is lightened by your presence."

"It pleases me to see you as well, my friend Blenna." Keyna inclined his head. "Though it gives me great shame to find my mayra fleeing your kind care. Will you wish to observe his correction, or trust to me that it will be appropriately severe?"

"I have no need to watch to be certain that my friend Keyna applies appropriate discipline," Blenna answered politely. On the ground, Jack's breath caught for a moment, but the others ignored him. "However, if you would indulge me by allowing a comment?" He held out his own hands as best he could while holding the leashes, right one palm up and left palm down.

"Of course." Keyna's answer was polite, but stilted, as if he expected unwelcome advice on mayree training or a remonstrance on his own abilities. He showed both his palms in a sweeping motion toward himself to indicate he would receive the other man's words.

"Thank you, my friend." He bowed his head now, and spread his hands in supplication. "If you will, please allow me to suggest that punishment may not be necessary at this time. I sent the mayra running to the barn for an additional leash while we waited in the woods." He chuckled now. "I heard his shriek and feared he'd been set upon by more badgers!" He glanced at Tarmo, swaying awkwardly as he tried to keep the weight off his bad foot, monitor the surly Bruto, and keep Mickey from escaping the shirt-sack. "We came as quickly as we could to save your property."

"My friend Blenna is kind to explain," Keyna said formally. "I shall take his words into consideration."

On the ground, Jack closed his eyes momentarily and let the relief wash through him. Keyna would probably find something to punish him for anyway, but at least it would not be the penalty for escape.

"My friend Keyna is very kind," Blenna responded, laying his palms over his own heart as if to treasure the memory. He smiled then, once again extending his hands. "Such a day we have had! May I share it with my friend Keyna?"

Keyna bowed his head in the less formal acknowledgement now that the unpleasantness over his mayra had ended. "I will be delighted to hear about my friend Blenna's experiences."

"May we walk as we speak?"

"Of course." Keyna waved at him to take the lead. "Mayra, up!" he snapped, his tone much less friendly.

"Yes, Keyna." Jack stood up.

"May I offer my lowly mayra to assist your more worthy one?" Keyna asked Blenna.

"My friend Keyna is most kind. Mayra, take the sack from Tarmo."

"Yes, Blenna." Jack stepped carefully around Bruto, jerking his hands back when the beast snapped at him anyway.

"Mayra!" Keyna's tone was clearly angry. "Take that sack!"

"Yes, Keyna." Jack snatched it away from Tarmo, narrowly avoiding Bruto's teeth. Inside, Mickey yelped and squirmed.

"I must humbly apologize – again – for this mayra's poor behavior. He shall of course be disciplined for his hesitation."

"I trust that my friend Keyna will address the issue to perfection."

Jack's head sank, knowing he had one correction coming for sure, and maybe more if Keyna could find any other fault with him. He hugged Mickey to him as he followed the others to the barn.

Blenna chattered happily away to Keyna about Bruto and the possible kill, and his hopes for the upcoming competition.

They entered the barn and Blenna sighed. "The happy talk must wait, there is work to be done. Tarmo, put Bruto in the first stall."

Tarmo did as he was ordered, handing the decorated leather strip to Jack when he returned. Blenna didn't notice, busy handing Tarmo the female's leash, but Keyna did. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, and Jack was sure he'd get a correction for taking it off even though Keyna knew why. The father beast was put into a stall of his own as well, then Blenna told Jack to put little Mickey into a fourth unoccupied stall.

"My friend Keyna, may I keep your mayra for a while longer? There is much still to do: the healing ointment must be prepared, the animals healed, their stalls cleaned of their blood. Also, I have left a badly injured mayra in the woods. He must be retrieved, and healed if he still lives. I would be quite grateful."

Keyna smiled, glad that the social balance was moving in his favor again. "I am happy to offer his meager services to my friend Blenna."

"My friend Keyna is most gracious," Blenna covered his heart with his hands again. "Tarmo, prepare a batch of the healing herbs."

Tarmo hobbled off to begin, and Blenna turned to Keyna. "I regret that I must take leave of my kind and generous friend Keyna now. I shall use your mayra to retrieve mine while Tarmo prepares."

Keyna took his leave. Blenna armed himself in case they encountered badgers, waved Jack to follow him and headed for the door. Jack paused, reaching automatically for the stretcher by the door. It was very wide, no doubt intended for injured rahi.

Blenna frowned at him. "Leave that, mayra. Tarmo is busy, and you cannot carry both ends. Come."

They walked along, silent except for Blenna's quiet musings about Bruto's performance. The badgers had not returned, or at least Jack thought they hadn't. Carnamo was pretty torn up, but he was still in the same position as when they left. Jack, forewarned by the stretcher comment that moving Carnamo was up to him alone, bent to put his arms under Carnamo's shoulders. He could walk backwards, keeping the injured man's head up and dragging his body.

Jack paused, thinking. He was already headed for at least two corrections, one for pulling his hand from Bruto's teeth and another for removing the leash. If he tripped, would he incur a third? He decided not to risk it. The mayra was in bad shape, but unconscious. He would not feel any extra jolting. He turned so Carnamo was behind him, pulling the injured man's arms over his own shoulders far enough that their heads were near each other. Careful not to grunt, he pushed his way up to standing with the other man draped down his back.

"Come, mayra."

He followed Blenna down the trail again. By the time they reached the barn, Jack had his mouth wide open with the effort to breathe quietly – Keyna had been known to consider audible breathing a form of speaking without permission – and was staggering. It shouldn't have been as hard as it was, but he'd had so little physical challenge in his time here that he was already losing fitness. He wearily dropped to his knees and rolled Carnamo to the floor by the barn wall.

Tarmo was waiting, a large bowl of the healing mixture laid out alongside a pile of clean towels, a pitcher of water, and three small cups. Jack sincerely hoped one of them was for him to drink from.

He should know by now that slaves merited no consideration.

"Tarmo, bring Bulleto."

Jack tried to hide his surprise. Carnamo was injured far worse than any of the animals. Surely the beasts could hold out a while longer, even if only to save Blenna the cost of a new mayra if Carnamo died. Bulleto wasn't even the worst injured among the animals!

Tarmo retrieved Bulleto and ordered him to lie down on his side near the ointment, which he did, but with wary eyes on the humans. Blenna knelt next to the animal's back, the safest position. Across from him, Tarmo knelt, his knees brushing the strong paws. Blenna waved Jack to Bulleto's head.

Jack knelt, and Bulleto growled. Jack stiffened.

"Steady, mayra. If he attacks, grab his neck and hold it down on the ground."

"Yes, Blenna." Jack must have looked as incredulous as he felt. The last thing he wanted to do if the big beast attacked was get into closer quarters with its mouth.

"Mayra, if you let him up, I will punish you myself *and* inform Keyna!" Blenna warned. "Bulleto is very valuable and must not be traumatized by being chased around the barn."

"Yes, Blenna." Jack leaned forward, ready to dive onto the animal's neck if necessary, and tried not to think about what Bulleto could do to any reachable part of Jack if he did.

They used the cups to pour small amounts of water on Bulleto, clearing off blood and dirt to look for injuries, then drying with the towels so the cold blooded animal would not be chilled. There were scratches on his shoulder. Blenna gave him a satisfied pat, and healed the injury. They moved along down the animal's body.

Tarmo sat back to fill his cup, then leaned forward to pour it on Bulleto's armor-plated skin. Each time he leaned forward, Bulleto growled at him to stay away from his foot. Jack couldn't understand why they didn't just look at the feet first, but he'd earned enough punishments today and decided not to ask. The animal would be fully healed in minutes anyway.

Working systematically, they eventually reached the foot and found a cut in the folds of it. Tarmo healed it, and they moved on. When he leaned forward to clean the next area, Bulleto lay quietly. Blenna commented on it. "He has settled now. Perhaps he had been growling at your nearness to his injured foot, Tarmo."

Tarmo rocked back and forth a few times to test the theory. Bulleto ignored him. "Master has wisely determined the truth."

Jack was puzzled by the exchange. Hadn't they heard Bulleto warning them about the foot all along? They didn't understand the animals' speech, he realized abruptly. It explained this, and also why no one else reacted to the badger calling its friends up from below. No one else had reacted to the badger, not even Mickey. Was it possible that he, Jack, was understanding all the animals and no one else here understood any other species? How could that be?

It was the gate. On their very first mission to Abydos, they hadn't spoken the locals' language. Daniel had had to learn their dialect and translate for everyone. Nowadays, they could walk through the gate to any planet and understand the inhabitants. Carter said it was because they had studied DHDs and enabled some auto-something or other in the SGC's gate. He hadn't understood the details, whether the gate was actively doing something while they were there or if it did something to the brains of the travelers. The net effect, though, was a kind of automatic translation. Any shared concept, like walking or eating, was just understood with no effort or translation on either side. Only words for things one of the two cultures hadn't experienced had to be explained. Here, for instance, 'cub' was automatically understood as a baby animal but 'rahi' was a new word to Jack because Earth had no concept of lizard-mice-monkey-dogs. It was also why they couldn't always understand the Goa'uld language – humans had no true concept of slithering or taking over another being's body or other things common to the snakes. He wondered why there weren't more animals on the Goa'uld controlled planets – sharing words would seemingly make them fantastic hunting and work partners. Could it be that even animals would turn on the Goa'uld once they understood the snakes' cruel intentions?

He brought his thoughts back to the present as Tarmo ordered Bulleto back to his feet. Jack was relieved to see that he was put into his "home" stall instead of the one he had waited in. Cleaning the blood in the original stall wouldn't have to be done around him.

The female beast was brought out next. Jack wondered if there was a pecking order Blenna was following, the way Jack interacted with Mighty first then the females then the other males in order of size. They worked on her side first, Blenna worriedly noting how deep the wound was, and how close to her womb. Great care was taken to clean and heal it thoroughly. When they repaired her leg, she gave a great sigh of relief and relaxed, big round ears falling slowly down over her eyes. By the time they had inspected the rest of her, and healed the remaining minor injuries, she was asleep.

Blenna patted her fondly, and told Tarmo to feed her the moment she was in her stall. If she went straight back to sleep, so be it, but it would be better if she ate first.

Tarmo gently woke her, speaking softly and stroking her flank. One ear rose halfway as she peeked at him, then it sagged back down. He chuckled, and continued to speak and stroke. The ear eventually came back up, and stayed up as he tugged on her leash. She got to her feet with a tired groan and followed him back to her cubs. Tarmo paused on the way to take a great scoop of some sort of kibble. He showed it to her to get her interest, then balanced it as he opened the stall door and let her in. The cubs went wild, of course, yapping and jumping. Tarmo returned to report that the female was fully awake, largely due to the noise of her family, and eating.

It was Bruto's turn next. Tarmo paused at the stall door, taking a breath to steady himself before entering. There was the sound of scuffling before he finally emerged with the growling beast in tow. It seemed Tarmo was gaining some confidence; there was less of a quaver in his voice as he ordered Bruto to lie down. Or maybe he realized that for this healing at least, Carnamo's injury had upgraded Tarmo to the position by the claws instead of the jaws.

Jack knelt by the animal's head, and was welcomed by a vicious snarl. The lip stayed curled, accompanied by a continuous growl like a buzz saw. There were no words, just the warning rumble.

Blenna observed him dispassionately. "His head seems to be in good shape. We'll start with the body first. Mayra," he waited for Jack to look him in the chest. "Bruto does not like the healing process, and must be pinned. When I give the word, you lie down across his head and stay there while we check his body. Do you understand, mayra?"

Jack was staring at the huge angry head and the array of long sharp teeth. He was supposed to lie down on that? "Y-yes, Blenna." He reminded himself that Blenna would heal Jack's probably-soon-to-be-shredded body, and it was still better than being punished by Keyna.

"Down, mayra."

Jack dove down, instinctively scrunching up his face as he saw Bruto's head start to move, though the teeth would land in Jack's belly not his face. The long fang that hung below Bruto's jaw dug into Jack's flank, but Jack landed on him before the rest of the teeth could dig in. He could feel Bruto sawing away at his belly, trying to get hold with his other teeth as well.

"Good, mayra. Hold your position."

"Yes, Blenna," Jack managed to gasp out, trying not to focus on the fang that impaled him and how it twisted as Bruto continued his efforts. He clenched one fist, lifting it a few inches and dropping it repeatedly as a different center for his attention.

Blenna took his time, as with the other animals, moving slowly from tail to neck. He was pleased to see a cut on Bruto's throat that supported Tarmo's story about one of the badgers and the potential first kill. He patted Bruto after he healed it.

"Mayra, when I give the word, roll over so that your body is on Bruto's neck and his head becomes visible. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Blenna." Jack gritted his teeth, preparing to obey. It would hurt to roll over and yank that fang out, but at least the huge tooth would *be* out.

"Roll over, mayra."

Jack did as he was ordered, getting it over with quickly, but was unable to prevent a grunt from escaping him. He lay on his back now, anxiously waiting to hear whether that counted as speaking without permission.

Blenna glanced over at him, noting the puncture on his flank, but said only. "Use your arm to keep his neck down, mayra."

Jack obediently moved his left arm out and pushed as hard as he could from the awkward position.

Bruto snarled and jerked as cuts on his face and lips were healed.

"Good, Bruto, good," Blenna crooned to the beast, patting him. "I know it's hard for you, my strong one, I know."

*Hard on Bruto?* Jack risked a glance at Tarmo, who had been rocking back and forth on his gouged ankle all this time, not to mention hobbling around between stalls. His jaws were clenched against his own pain, but his attention remained on the dangerous animal in front of him.

"Up, mayra."

Jack sat up as quickly as he could, able to suppress a groan this time. Blenna waved at Tarmo and the slave rose and led Bruto to his usual stall.

"Feed our brave boys, Tarmo."

Tarmo gave the adult males each a large scoop of the kibble, and Jack could hear them crunching away as Mickey was brought out.

In the thrill of being outside, and fighting, the little beast had hardly noticed his own injuries. Now, the excitement had worn off, and he found himself alone and in pain. He practically threw himself at Tarmo when he saw his face over the half-door, howling for his mother.

Tarmo, unfortunately, did not understand. He stilled, hand on the latch, calling out, "Master?"

"Yes, Tarmo."

"The little one wishes to attack. What shall I do?"

Blenna considered before answering. "His memory of today should be of conquering badgers, not mayree." Jack lowered his head to hide his shock – the rahi were allowed to attack their handlers as practice? He'd heard Blenna say that hunters' ferocity should not be blunted, but this was still hard to believe. "Give him some meat and see if he settles."

"Yes, Master."

Tarmo stepped away, returning with some small chunks of meat to offer Mickey.

It took a moment before Mickey noticed the smell of the meat over his eagerness to go home to his mother. Tarmo opened the door and quickly grabbed him while he was gulping it down.

He set Mickey down, and the little animal tried to scramble up and run to its home stall, but Tarmo pushed him back down. They started at his tail and moved forward, letting him get used to the pattern of pour, wipe, heal. One of the many cuts on his muzzle had slashed his lip from just behind the fang toward his eye, and a matching one on his ear showed where it had clapped down and saved the eye from the end of the swipe. Blenna paused thoughtfully, then healed the ear. He repaired most of the other cuts before returning to the torn lip.

"Mayra, take hold of him."

Jack glanced at Tarmo, who shrugged and extended his arms, giving Jack room to grab the little animal. When Jack had him, Tarmo let go and turned to Blenna for further instruction.

"I'll hold his lip, and you heal it when I give the word, Tarmo."

"Yes, Master."

Blenna took a moment, pulling the lip one way and another as Mickey whimpered. In the absence of his mother, the baby animal cried out to Jack, who had brought warmth and comfort other times, begging him to make it stop. Jack half-closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears. He was powerless to help himself, let alone Mickey.

Blenna finally stopped, holding the two sides unevenly, and ordered Tarmo to apply the healing gel.

Jack watched as the cut healed in a wavy line. The upper lip was pulled back and up, and the tip of a tooth could just be seen.

Blenna pursed his lips as he judged his work. "Does he look like he's snarling, Tarmo? Or does it look artificial? We could adjust it…"

Tarmo knew better than to offer solid opinions on anything. "I am not sure, Master. Perhaps if you viewed him while he is standing, you could better determine."

"Good thinking, Tarmo. Mayra, let him up, but keep hold."

Jack eased the pressure on Mickey, and he sprang up, trying to twist away and run for his mother and the home stall. Jack blocked him, and the cub whirled, ready to try another route. He turned back again when he saw Blenna, who had brought the pain, and Jack thought for a moment that Mickey would leap into Jack's arms for protection. He decided he could help in one little way.

Jack switched his grip to Mickey's torso and forced him around to face Blenna. He angled his fingers up under Mickey and squeezed hard enough to annoy the little beast. Mickey kept his eyes on the feared Blenna, as any terrified creature would, but his whimper of fear rose to a growl.

Blenna moved his hand from one side to the other, and Mickey's head automatically followed it, giving a view of both sides of his face. Blenna was satisfied with the permanent scowl, and told Jack to return Mickey to his mother.

Jack rose, and Mickey squirmed anxiously for freedom. He'd been carried once, and left in an empty stall, then carried again to a place where they hurt him. He struggled more with each step. When he thought they were far enough away from Blenna and Tarmo, Jack leaned his head down and breathed "We're going to Mommy now." Mickey yelled for joy, and Jack jerked his head up to avoid a sloppy tongue of thanks. He patted the little animal, and picked up the pace.

Jack leaned over the half-door and lowered Mickey to the floor. Halfway down, Mickey sprang away and raced for his mother.

Jack turned back to find Blenna scowling at him. What had he done wrong? Did the others actually understand the rahi after all, and not want them to be comforted? Was it because he saw a master's face when he turned? He hadn't meant to, he was just looking where he was going, and from the distance the view had included the man. He walked quickly back, not wanting to worsen things by appearing to dawdle.

"Mayra." Blenna's voice confirmed his displeasure.

Tarmo busied himself with the rags and ointment. Jack hadn't expected the other slave to intervene, but a hint about what was wrong would have been nice.

"Yes, Blenna."

Blenna took a deep breath and released it slowly, apparently trying to calm himself. "Mayra, these are valuable animals. They must not have their ferocity blunted."

"Y-, er, n-, uh," Jack spluttered for a moment, the first comment required a positive answer and the other a negative one. "I understand, Blenna."

"Do you, Mayra? Do you?"

"I understand your words, Blenna," Jack said slowly. He didn't dare ask what he had done wrong; if the same rules applied here as with Keyna, he'd be set up for repeats until he figured it out. "I am new to working with the rahi, Blenna, and I don't yet know the best ways to interact with them." He held out both hands, palms down, asking for mercy.

Blenna considered, then sighed. "You are new, and you aren't even mine. However," his voice hardened. "Learn this, and learn it well, mayra. The rahi must not have their ferocity blunted. If a cub attacks, it must be successful!" He came very close to Jack, his voice very stern. "I saw you pull your face from that cub's mouth as you walked to the stall. You made his attack fail!"

"I'm sorry, Blenna."

"If it happens again, mayra, there will be severe punishment."

"Yes, Blenna."

Blenna turned away from him. "Mayree, bring Carnamo."

Jack and Tarmo carried Carnamo over as gently as they could. They started with his head, Tarmo sloshing water over it to reveal wounds on his face and scalp. Carnamo began to rouse, but Blenna ignored him, calmly applying the healing gel. The injured man moaned and rocked his head. Blenna moved his hand along with him.

Tarmo splashed water on the neck next, not being as slow or cautious as he had been with the rahi, and Carnamo jerked at the sudden touch.

"Very close to the jugular," Blenna commented idly. "Another inch and I would need a new mayra." He smeared the wound thickly, then set the bowl down and drew a sharp knife from his belt, using it to slice away Carnamo's torn shirt. It was hard for a badger or rahi to open its mouth wide enough to bite a man's chest, and the cuts there were correspondingly shallower, and quickly healed. Arms were easier targets, and the wounds there were deep.

Jack shuddered when Blenna placed what remained of Carnamo's left hand on the injured man's belly. Tarmo sloshed water on it, more gently this time, but if anything it looked worse without the blanket of blood. The healing gel was powerful, but could it fix *that*?

Blenna instructed Tarmo to take hold of the first finger bone and pull it straight. When he did, Carnamo reacted violently, starting up to a half sitting position with a scream.

Blenna grabbed him by the hair, their faces inches apart. "Down, Carnamo! Down!"

It took a moment for the confused and agonized slave to calm.

"Down, Carnamo." Blenna repeated.

"Master," Carnamo whispered, face white, whole body trembling.

"Down, Carnamo, and hold," Blenna repeated firmly.

Carnamo slumped backward, teeth gritted. Jack moved to hold his shoulders, but Blenna ordered him back. "It is good for a mayra to hold still through pain when ordered to do so. It reinforces obedience."

Jack said nothing. The word 'mayra' had been in the sentence, but not to identify him, so he was not supposed to respond.

Blenna chuckled to himself. "I would have thought Keyna taught all his trainees that. Apparently, our esteemed mayree handler is gentler than he would have us believe. I may have to tease him about this!" He didn't see Jack blanch at the thought of what Keyna might do if someone told him he was overly soft on his slaves. "Tarmo, adjust the first finger."

Tarmo did it, and Carnamo screamed again, arching his back but not sitting up. Blenna healed it, then ordered Tarmo on to the next, and the next. He took his time, fixing one finger at a time, then the palm. "You did well, Carnamo," Blenna told him when the hand was finished and the slave slumped, gasping, on the floor.

"Thank you, master," Carnamo panted.

"You are welcome, Carnamo." Blenna was still smiling down at Carnamo as he said, "Next hand, Tarmo."

The second hand was in as bad a shape as the first, Carnamo having instinctively used them in a vain attempt to protect himself. After that, the rest of the healing was easier and easier. By the time Blenna was healing his toes, Carnamo was exhausted but calm, and thanked his master again.

"You are welcome, Carnamo. Master values you. Rest a moment." He patted Carnamo the same way he had patted the rahi when they were finished. "Tarmo."

"Yes, master."

"Your foot, Tarmo."

Tarmo happily switched off his knees, which was the better position to move around and help with the healings, to sit on his rear and extend his foot. It had been hours now, and there was just a mass of blood from mid-calf all the way down. "Remove the foot-covering, Tarmo."

Tarmo bent to unwind wrappings that covered his shin and foot. He set the shredded item aside. Jack leaned a bit closer, surprised that it looked like rahi hide.

Blenna noticed. "Amazing, isn't it?" he commented. "Rahi hide is practically impervious to the knife," he slammed his dagger down on a piece of it and it slid off, leaving barely a scratch, "but badger teeth can still cut right through." He used the blade to lift the skin. Light showed clearly through a myriad of slashes. He dropped it with a chuckle. "Imagine, Tarmo, what your foot would look like if master hadn't allowed you such boots."

Tarmo shivered, looking at the bloody mess that had been made through the tough material. "Master is exceedingly kind to me."

"Master values you, Tarmo." He poured water over the limb and began to apply the gel. Tarmo closed his eyes in relief as the pain receded.

"Mayra."

"Yes, Blenna." Hopefully, it was his turn. The pain in his belly stabbed as though the fang was still in it.

Blenna had him remove his shirt and lie down, splashing water over the wounded flank. Jack clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Except for one confused memory of a kind Keyna healing him – or perhaps that was a dream, kindness and Keyna just did not go together – the gel had always been agony to Jack even when it was pleasure to others. Blenna frowned at him, and Jack tried to rearrange his features to a blank expression. Would it anger Blenna if he showed tension at impending pain?

Blenna's hand moved, and Jack held his breath, determined not to cry out. Blenna had not punished Carnamo for screaming his guts out, but it was possible that Keyna's rule of silence would still be enforced for Jack. He felt a finger on his belly, and the feeling was intense. It took a moment to realize that what he was feeling was simple relief, washing over him like a wave. He slumped, and let his breath out.

Blenna was frowning again. "Are you alright, Mayra?"

"Yes, Blenna. Thank you for the healing, Blenna."

"You are welcome, mayra." Blenna was still frowning. "Your hands, mayra."

Jack held them out, palms down, used to asking for mercy, though not expecting to get any. He thought frantically of what he could have done wrong now. He did not expect to be so lucky as to have Blenna explain two errors to him.

There was a pause, and Jack was startled when Blenna rubbed one of his hands gently. He realized he had cuts and scratches on them. They were so minor, he had barely noticed during the other events of the day. Apparently, he had some on his face and neck as well, since Blenna moved on to those next.

Blenna rose. "Tarmo, mayra, clean up." Blenna went to wash his hands.

Jack followed Tarmo's example and used towels to mop up blood from the floor. Carnamo, not having been told otherwise, continued to enjoy a rest. He obligingly shifted over so they could clean where he had lain. When the floor was clean, Tarmo piled all the towels in Jack's arms, then took the bowl of herbs and waved to Jack to follow him. There was a sink in a corner of the barn. Tarmo pointed to the floor and Jack dropped the towels.

"Hold, Tarmo."

Hands already over the sink, bowl near the tap, Tarmo froze, waiting to hear his master's instructions.

Blenna walked over, looking at Jack thoughtfully, as though trying to figure something out. "Mayra, take the bowl."

Jack took it, careful not to look curious or worried. From the chest down, Blenna did not look angry. Jack wished he was allowed to look at the man's face to get a better idea of his mood, but reminded himself that that was a sure way to punishment. Besides, Keyna did not have to be angry to be cruel so there was no reason to think Blenna did.

"Eat some, mayra." Blenna waved a hand at the bowl.

Jack was surprised. He looked into the bowl, the thick gel tinted pinkish purple with human and rahi blood. There was no utensil, so he put the bowl in one palm and scooped some of the goo up with his other hand. He put it in his mouth, a coppery taste adding to the usual tart-sweet combination. He swallowed it and took some more.

Blenna stopped him at three helpings, and told them to continue cleaning up. Tarmo washed the bowl and set it aside, then bent for the first of the towels. Blenna watched him show Jack how to soap and rinse them, then hang them on a rack near the wall. "Mayra, do you understand how to wash the towels?"

"Yes, Blenna." Jack would be happy to get a simple assignment like this. Gory it might be, but it was also hard to do it wrong.

"Tarmo, go to the house and bring me some food. Mayra, continue cleaning."

Tarmo headed off, and Blenna pulled up a chair and silently watched Jack do the washing. He was careful to get every towel clean in case Blenna's intent was to punish him for stains. Tarmo returned with hot food for Blenna, kneeling beside the chair to serve him. The savory scent made Jack's mouth water, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any of it. He kept on washing, deliberately leaning closer so that the soap odor would cover the food smell.

When Blenna finished eating, Tarmo helped Jack finish the towels. Down the hall, Carnamo had fallen asleep and was snoring gently. The rahi were quiet, and the only other sound was the splash of water in the sink.

Finally the last towel was clean, the entire wall lined with them. Water dripped from them into a narrow channel next to the wall, and flowed out to a small garden next to the outside door.

"Now the stalls, mayree."

Tarmo went to the stall Bulleto had been in before his healing, and Jack followed. Tarmo bent and scooped up some of the straw on the floor, carrying it out of the stall. Jack grabbed a load of it and went with him. In the center of the barn was a sort of a stove. Tarmo held his straw between his neck and one hand, and used the other to open a small door. He stuffed the straw into the opening, and it slid down a chute into the stove. There was a whoosh as it caught fire, and a warm breeze from above. Jack glanced up, seeing the overhead vent. It was pretty ingenious, really. The stove was enclosed to prevent the straw in the barn from catching fire, but blew down warm air in addition to radiating heat from its hot body.

Jack shoved his load into the chute, and felt the answering puff of warm air. They both returned to get more, making trips until all four of the pre-healing stalls were empty of straw. Tarmo led him back to the sink, and took two wet towels down, then filled a nearby bucket with soap and water. They scrubbed the floors in each stall, along with any spots they found on the walls, then washed the bucket and finally the towels. Jack hung them back where they had come from.

"At last," Blenna said with a yawn. "Mayra, come." He stood, and took a short length of chain from a hook on the wall.

Jack wondered what was next as he walked over. Blenna led him to another stall. There was a narrow trough on each wall at about knee height, and two long piles of straw. Blenna took him to one wall, where the floor was clear, and just behind one of the troughs.

"Down, mayra."

Jack wasn't sure whether to sit or lay, so he knelt, ready to do whatever he was told next, and wondering if Blenna was going to beat him with the chain. The man crouched, looping the chain around Jack's neck. He slipped one end of the chain through a link in the other end, then rapped the wall smartly next to the trough. Two vertical panels flipped open to reveal a narrow vertical pole crossing with a horizontal one that probably supported the troughs. He clipped the end of the chain to the vertical pole, just below where the horizontal one joined it. Blenna pushed the boards closed again, the chain snaking through the gap between them, and stood to clip the boards together at head height.

Jack was effectively held to the wall. The chain held him to the pole, and the boards kept him away from it. The slip collar was tight enough that he could not get his head out of it. He could move up and down, from the floor to a couple feet up, which would allow him to lay or sit against the wall but not reach the latch that held the wall closed. It was probably built to hold rahi, but would work just as well on a human.

"Tarmo."

The slave appeared at his shoulder. "Yes, master."

"Get Carnamo, and three skees."

"Yes, master."

Three skees? What were those? What were Blenna, Tarmo, and Carnamo going to do to him?

The mayree returned, carrying tall ovals with spiky looking things on top. They showed them to Blenna, and at his nod, upended one over each of three of the troughs. Kibble poured out of the smooth side of the ovals, which were then clipped on the side of the trough with the spiky things down.

Blenna stepped out and closed the door behind him. Apparently Jack was staying the night.

Tarmo and Carnamo sat down and helped themselves to two of the troughs, taking long draughts of liquid through the spiky things before moving on to the kibble. After a moment, Tarmo paused. "Eat, mayra." He waved at the trough in front of Jack.

Jack shook his head.

"Don't expect anything better," Tarmo warned. "We're lucky to get food worthy of a rahi."

Jack shrugged. Keyna had rules about eating, and he was not sure if he would explain even if he could.

"Master allows us to talk here, mayra." Tarmo looked at Carnamo, as if expecting him to say something.

Carnamo shrugged, bolted his food, and lay down on one of the long piles of straw.

"He's usually more talkative, but it has been a long day for him." Tarmo looked over to Jack. "You really should eat."

Jack shook his head.

Tarmo shrugged and returned to his own food.

Jack let him eat before speaking. "Tarmo?"

"What?"

Jack was burning to ask the big question, but he thought it best to start small. A basic question about the animals. "If the rahi are allowed to attack mayree, why don't the adults just kill us?"

Tarmo shrugged. "Cubs will attack mayree, but as they grow up, they get bored with anything that doesn't fight back. Plus, the master gives them more exciting prey when they are ready for a challenge."

That was a dubious comfort. Let the little ones attack with their four-inch fangs, and by the time they were adults they wouldn't be interested in digging their seven-inch fangs into you. "Great," he said with irony, and Tarmo chuckled.

"Have you been working with the rahi for long?"

"Three years. Master bought me at the same time as Bulleto and Rito."

Jack was amazed at the casual tone, as if the man had been an item on a shopping list. From his perspective, he probably was.

"If Bruto does well, maybe master will buy you, too. He likes how you handle the cubs."

"I would like that," Jack said. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to ask. "Tarmo, what's my name?"

Tarmo looked at him like he was an idiot or something. "Mayra."

Jack wasn't sure if it was an answer or a rebuke or a question. Or if this was all a trick and he'd be punished for speaking after all. He had to take the risk; he had to know. The day after he'd tried to get the other mayra to kill him, Keyna had punished him over and over. For screaming when the burning liquid was poured in his injured eye socket, and again when the knife dug down to his broken arm bone, bringing more fiery agony with it. For trying to die. For trying to steal his own value from Keyna. It had been horrible, one of the worst days of his life. By the end, he'd been willing to try anything to make it end. He'd pretended to break, or maybe he had broken. There was a fine line between being pushed to the brink or over the edge. When Keyna gave him the opportunity to speak, he had begged forgiveness, pleaded for mercy, sworn to do anything and everything Keyna ever said for his entire life. He told himself it was just pretend, giving his captor the words he demanded, and hoped he meant it.

Keyna had believed him. Jack had had a brief shining moment of hope that he'd finally appeased his captor. Until Keyna asked him his name. Jack obediently replied that he had no name, only 'mayra.' Keyna asked him his true name, the one that would be his when he was trained. It was a basic question, but he'd almost collapsed with fear from it. When he had been first captured, they'd asked him his name. He'd answered honestly, and it had enraged them. They asked again and again, doing worse and worse things as he tried desperately to find an answer they would accept. Name, rank, and serial number. Name and rank. Rank. Every variation on his name he could think of. He'd even tried Daniel's name, and Teal'c's, and the General's. He vaguely remembered sobbing his own name between interminable surges of agony before waking in Keyna's compound. Keyna knew about all that, of course. He had ignored the one time that Jack had called himself "O'Neill" the day they met, but remembered that defiance. His name was now a test of his submission.

The problem was, he didn't know what answer would be considered acceptable. He'd happily use any name, any word – profanity, gibberish, anything – that would appease Keyna. He'd tried that as an answer, saying that his name was whatever Keyna wished it to be. It had infuriated the man. He thought that Jack was not only unbroken, but still sassing him. Jack had been punished twice more for that impudence. He knew he'd be asked again, and punished again, until he found the answer.

"Tarmo, please. What will my name be when I'm trained?"

"How should I know?" Tarmo was moving away from him, out of reach as though he might begin to act as crazily as he was talking.

"Where did your name come from?"

"It's just my human-name, with 'mo' at the end."

His *human* name. If Jack had needed any more evidence that the mayree were no better than animals, that was it. There was no time to dwell on that depressing thought. He needed to figure out his name. "So your name was 'Tar' before you were captured?"

The man looked offended. "Of course not, who would give their kid a name that didn't end with an 'a'?" He looked around surreptitiously, as if to make sure Blenna was not nearby to hear him remember his original name. "I was Tarquiana – mother liked fancy names – but Blenna did not care for such a long one as Tarquianamo so he shortened it."

Jack considered, grateful for the input. "So Carnamo was Carna before? Or was his name longer, too?"

"I expect it was Carna, but I don't really know. It is punishable for a mayra to speak his human-name." Tarmo's eyes narrowed, realizing that he had just done so. "If you tell master I said my human-name, I'll deny it. He'll believe me and you'll be punished for lying."

"I won't tell." Jack didn't care about Tarmo's name for the name, and he certainly wasn't going to try to get any other mayra in trouble. He only wanted to know what to say next time he was asked for his own name.

Jack considered a moment. This explained why none of the names, ranks, or serial numbers had worked. None ended with 'a.' But which name was the right one now? O'Neill was clearly out, as were Colonel and his serial number. Would it be Jamo, cutting "Jack" off at the "a" and adding "mo"? Or Jonamo, from Jonathon up to the "a"? Or even Jonathamo, if they thought Jonathon had sounded like it ended with "an"?

"Tarmo, was there a reason that Blenna called you Tarmo instead of Tamo?" It seemed like stopping at the "a" better fit the general rule; if there were exceptions, Jack needed to know what they were.

The man scowled at him. Maybe Blenna's choice had been intended to embarrass the slave.

"Tarmo, I really need to know. Keyna is going to ask me my name and I don't know what to say. If I'm wrong, Keyna…Keyna will…" He shuddered at the thought.

Tarmo seemed to take pity on him then. "Keyna is known to be…thorough… in his training." He spoke cautiously, as though Jack would be affronted by an insult to Keyna. "Just put 'mo' after your human-name, and it'll be all right. Keyna will have your human-name from your capture, he will know when you tell him the truth. Get some rest now." Tarmo lay down on the other pile of straw, burrowing down into it for warmth.

Jack lay down on the hard floor, arms crossed for warmth. He didn't mind that they hadn't shared the straw. This was still warmer and better smelling than his usual place outside behind the feces pile. As he lay, he thought over which name his captors would have heard most, and what was most likely to be what Keyna expected. Jona and Jonatha were more likely than Ja as human-names, he decided. But which? He turned the crucial question over in his mind as he lay there in the dark barn. There were two punishments already coming. If he did things right, if he made Keyna believe he'd broken, the question of his name might be asked again. And if he got the answer right, maybe those punishments would be his last. *Oh, please, please, please, let them be his last.* He didn't know how much more he could take.

He would try Jonathamo, he decided, and claim that he'd been saying "Jonatha, I'll kneel" to show submission and that they'd mis-heard him to be saying "Jonathan O'Neill." Surely that was what Keyna wanted to hear. If not…. He didn't even want to imagine what Keyna would do if he thought Jack was still sassing him after his last dramatic correction for insolence.

oOo

"I can't do this." Daniel Jackson turned away yet again. He couldn't look at it anymore.

"Daniel, this is important," Samantha Carter tried to hide her exasperation. She was eager to begin the rescue, and this was the last thing holding them up. "If you can't do this now, if you can't even *practice,* you might hesitate if…if…" Ok, she could do it, she'd practiced enough to be sure, but she still had trouble saying it.

"You may hesitate if it is necessary in the field," Teal'c finished for her. He didn't like it any more than they did, but he had had a lot more practice hiding his feelings as Apophis' First Prime. "You must know that you can act, and that your aim will be true."

"I'll do it if I have to," Daniel said stubbornly.

"If that is so, and your team tells you that you have to do it now, then do so," Teal'c said calmly.

Daniel stared at the other man for a moment, hating both his teammates for an instant for making him do this.

"It's for the best," Carter said softly.

Daniel closed his eyes, and heard her sigh, knew the others were exchanging a worried look. Fine. He'd show them. He opened his eyes and whirled, raising his right arm. The flexible metallic tube in his sleeve moved with him, tugging only slightly on the apparatus circling his waist. He made the Spiderman-like gesture, pressing with two separate fingers on the pad at his wrist.

The energy pulse shot out, striking the life-size photo of Jack O'Neill square in the chest. The paper torso, and the wall behind it disappeared in a hail of paper and stone, leaving a hole over three feet in diameter. It was intended as a siege weapon, a portable means of beating down an enemy's gate or wall. They might use it that way.

They might also use it as their last resort; if there was no way to get the Colonel off that planet, they would kill him in a way no technology could restore.

The top half of Jack's face teetered over the space where its body used to be, swinging side to side as though he was shaking his head at Daniel in rebuke. If it came to this, to killing Jack, they had to leave more than just half a head so the locals could identify his remains.

Daniel stared at the disembodied brown eyes for a moment, and something seemed to settle in him. They had to be ready. If they failed to rescue Jack, they *must* succeed in granting his last wish. With a resolve he had not felt until this moment, Daniel swung around and fired at the other three targets in succession, striking each in the lower body.

"We are ready," Teal'c clapped a solemn hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Let's go get the Colonel," Carter added, and they strode off.

A trio of paper heads, none with more than shoulders still attached, rocked eerily behind them.

oOo

Next chapter: A riotous rescue, and how Keyna is controlling Jack


	5. Breakdown

oOo

Teal'c stood back to look at the wagon. Even his critical eye could find nothing further to adjust. It was fashioned after the merchant wagons in photographs Morgan's team had taken, a chest-high wooden box with big caster wheels beneath and three poles sticking out from the top of each side. The poles could be folded down when not being used to push or pull or display wares. Unlike the originals, this wagon was reinforced with metal and concealed a small but zippy engine so they could outrun pursuers back to the Gate if necessary. With so many unknowns on this mission, they had planned for as many situations as they could.

The wagon held two mattresses standing vertically on each side, courtesy of their friends on PS3-1509, made of local materials that conformed to one's body and muffled all sound. Wonderfully comfortable for sleeping, they were more than just objects to offer for trade. If they had to, they could wrap one of these deceptively thin mattresses around a man and smuggle him away with no one hearing him. It wasn't for Jack; based on Morgan's report, the Colonel should only be taken with agreement of the local authorities, preferably newly-installed ones. If they couldn't buy him, they might resort to abducting one of the locals and doing a prisoner exchange.

Alongside the mattresses were stacks of rocks. These were from PS-104, where their ability to reflect heat made them the only stones to survive local volcanic activity. Once heated, a stone would reflect warmth for hours afterward. Mainly for trade, since any encamped army should appreciate a source of heat, even the stones had a second potential use. Anything they had to hide along the way could be buried and the spot marked with a hot rock; making it easily found again with infrared goggles.

In the center were stacks of smaller items. Everything had at least two potential uses. Beautiful stone amulets, gifts for any important-seeming people they met, held tracking devices that could be monitored via the hovering UAV if need be for stealth or surprise attack. The trio wore pendants of their own, including tracking devices, but with one additional feature. Hidden compartments held components of Dargol. Linea, the infamous "Destroyer of Worlds" had erased the memories of a planet's population with Dargol in an event the victims called the Vorlix. Far too dangerous to carry around in its final form, the ingredients of the compound had been divided into three parts. If nothing else worked, they could be combined and used to "replace" the leadership by making them forget everything. It was an extremely fine line – Hammond had been very clear about not replacing the ruling party – but they had agreed it would be worth even the potential courts-martial if it meant bringing the Colonel home alive.

Teal'c bowed his head to Carter. "It is time, my wife."

Carter bowed her head in return, mimicking the gestures they'd seen on Morgan's team's videos. "Yes, my husband." She turned to Daniel, and bowed her head to him. "My brother, will you dial the gate?" Not knowing local customs except from the limited observations, they had decided that the assumed relationships would help, and practiced repeating them for good measure. It was a reason, in addition to being merchants, for being together and staying close, plus it might mitigate any potential issues with men and women being in public together.

"Yes, my sister." Daniel bowed his head to her, then turned to the DHD. Carter and Teal'c stood nearby, watching the tiny screen of her PDA for the picture the hovering UAV would relay to it. If no one was nearby, they'd hustle through the gate and into the nearby woods. From there, they would circle around the city and come in from the mountainside. Given their original reception, they didn't want to risk anyone finding out that they'd come through the gate. There were traces of a city high in the hills, cut off by a long ago landslide. They would pretend to be from there, and that they had only recently found a way past the blockage. Hopefully, any faux pas would be assumed to be due to their mountain city being separated from the valley ones for so long.

"Clear!" she half-shouted it, excited to finally be going. They planned it for night at their destination, but it had still taken three evenings to find a clear chance.

Teal'c pushed the wagon at a trot, getting up to running speed as the others added their efforts. They raced out of the sunlight and into the inky darkness of storm-tossed woods. They'd memorized the path days ago, and didn't even slow down as they bounced down the trail, taking two right forks, a left, and another right, stopping at the treeline.

This was a planned resting point, and they leaned against the cart to catch their breath, each facing a different direction to keep watch as best they could in the gloom. Carter faced back toward the gate while Daniel's view was of the lights of the city. Teal'c looked out across the open grassland to the foothills. This would be their next, and one of the most dangerous, moves. They would run across the open and into the hills. Tonight's goal was simply to find shelter in the hills. Tomorrow in the daylight they would circle around the city to approach it as if they had come from the mountains.

"This rain will make the crossing to the hills safer," Teal'c commented with satisfaction.

"Or not," Carter said slowly. She was frowning at her hands, and bent to peer at the covering on the wagon.

"What is it?" Daniel asked the question, but he had straightened and started to look in slow circles all around them. Teal'c was doing the same, alert for clues to the danger she had spotted.

"Do your hands sting?"

"I thought it was from pushing the wagon," Daniel said, glancing down at his own reddened hands.

She looked, too. "They'd be red on the palms if that was the reason," she pointed out. "The backs of mine hurt. And there's streaks on the canvas."

Daniel flipped his hands over, realizing that she was right. His palms were pink, and warm from the friction of the cart. But the backs were red and stinging. "What's happening?"

"I think it's the rain," she guessed, even as she dug in her pack. They'd brought everything but the kitchen sink; she had a field testing kit in there, and pulled out the ph strip, holding it in the rain. It quickly turned bright pink. "It's acidic. *Very* acidic. Here." She rummaged in another pack,coming up with, of all things, a bar of soap, a canteen, and gloves. "Use the soap on your hands, and rinse with water from the canteen, then put on the gloves."

"Soap?"

"Soap is a base, it will help to neutralize the acid. We're lucky our faces were protected by our hoods, and it only got our hands."

"This is why there was no one watching the gate," Teal'c said abruptly, but with surety.

"It makes sense," Daniel agreed.

Carter was reaching around in the packs again. She pulled out goggles. "We'd better protect our eyes, even if we do have hoods on."

oOo

Jack swallowed as the last of the other mayree left the room, headed for their assigned tasks of the day. Keyna had not been at all pleased to see him return with a message from Blenna instead of simply to join the queue of mayree awaiting assignments. He'd been so angry, in fact, that he had refused to hear the message at the time, ordering Jack to wait painfully close to the fireplace.

Keyna turned his head slowly, glaring for a full minute before calling Jack forward. Given a choice, Jack would have stayed where he was, even with one side of his body stinging from the fire, rather than face the heat of that anger. But he didn't have a choice. He stepped forward, knelt before Keyna, and bowed his head all the way to the ground.

"Raise your head, mayra."

Jack did as he was told, kneeling and looking at Keyna's chest.

"I will hear this message, mayra," Keyna said evenly. "If my ear hears a complaint about your service, your ear will never hear again." Beside him, one of the enforcers reached for a long slender tool like an ice pick and displayed it as he walked over. Using one hand to press Jack's head against his knees, he held the pick next to his cheek. The message was clear. If Keyna did not like what he heard, his enforcer would pierce Jack's eardrum.

"Do not think you will be healed, mayra," Keyna warned. "There will be no visible scarring to lower your sale price, so the loss of one ear's use can be a permanent reminder to you."

"Yes, Keyna." The force of the grip on his face slurred his words. Or maybe it was fear that choked his throat and made his heart race. He had to repeat the message verbatim, or be punished. But Keyna was already angry, and might very well act when he heard its start, without hearing it to the end.

Keyna put his hands on the arms of his chair, as if to help him control more anger. "I will hear Blenna's message, mayra."

Jack spoke carefully, enunciating with difficulty through his mashed cheeks. "Master Blenna wishes you greetings and success, Master Keyna. His heart brims with gratitude for your assistance these past days." Keyna's assistance indeed! It hadn't been Keyna holding that fang down with his gut. Jack was almost grateful for the fierce grip that would be a logical excuse for any twinge in his voice. "Master Blenna humbly begs your indulgence, Master Keyna, in a matter of mayree control."

The enforcer clenched him harder at those words, anticipating the need to strike. Jack grunted, and had a flash of memory of himself as a child, making faces with his friends, sucking his cheeks as far in as they would go and talking through "fish lips." But this was no game. He continued as best he could, rushing to be heard before Keyna gave any signal to Baramo. "A mayra was badly injured by rahi and badgers. The mayra now fears the animals and chooses punishment over obedience. Master Blenna asks your advice, clever Master Keyna, and offers the cub of your choice as meager repayment for your valued counsel."

Keyna sat back on his chair, thinking. He gave no order, so the mayree remained as they were, one standing with the other crushed against him.

"I shall assist my friend Blenna," Keyna announced. "Mayra, where is this mayra, and by what name is it called?"

"The mayra is in Blenna's barn, chained to the wall, and is called Carnamo, Keyna."

"What incentives has Blenna tried, mayra?"

"I was chained in the barn, and did not see, Keyna. I heard encouraging words, then yelling, then pounding sounds."

Keyna seemed pleased with this news. "Simple things," he nodded. "Pelamo, go to Blenna's barn and introduce yourself to Carnamo. I shall arrive later to hear your evaluation."

The enforcer bowed and left, looking confident that he would have results to show by the time his master arrived. His partner, at a wave from Keyna, released Jack and stepped back to his post beside the master's chair.

"As for you, mayra," Keyna said pleasantly. "Did you behave well under Blenna's care?"

"I tried, Keyna, but I failed. Keyna was magnanimous enough to notice two errors." Jack paused, and when no word came, he went on. "I removed my leash and failed to take the bag as ordered."

"Why is that, mayra?"

"It doesn't matter, Keyna. It matters only that I failed." That has been another hard-won lesson. "Why" he failed didn't matter. "How" things had happened was the request to know what else had gone on.

"Good, mayra."

Jack was surprised at the positive words.

"You must be punished," Keyna continued in a conversational tone. "Then we shall see."

That sounded like he might be asked his name again, and now that he had an answer, it might mean that he was nearing the end of his time with Keyna. Jack tried to hold on to that optimism, hoping it would help him get through what was to come.

oOo

Samantha Carter sighed, and turned to edge her way back between the wagon and the rock wall to the alcove where Daniel was sitting. Behind her, Teal'c continued to observe the city below through his binoculars. They'd taken the first refuge from the acid rain, an outcropping of rock on a small plateau overlooking the city. It was just big enough to shelter the wagon and allow the trio to sit or stand behind it. All night, and most of the morning, they'd had nothing to do but watch the city, where the inhabitants sensibly kept inside away from the caustic showers.

"So, Daniel, what's with the gargoyles?" Maybe there was a significance to the hunched statues of slaves that seemed to adorn many yards, or to their misshapen faces, all of which seemed not only morose but covered in uneven bumps and splotchy colors. Surely the homeowners didn't put those creepy things out because they liked their looks.

Daniel opened his mouth to answer, but Teal'c spoke first. "They are living beings."

"What?" Carter started back toward her companion. "They can't be."

"Look closely and you will see." He made room for her at his side, and Daniel as well. The pair peered through their own binoculars.

"It's inhuman to leave them out in this!"

"Slave-takers often pretend their victims are inhuman in order to justify their actions," Teal'c commented calmly. He'd seen a lot more slavery in his lifetime than they had.

"They may leave them outside to demonstrate to the slaves how little value they have," Daniel offered. "Or as a punishment, or a test of loyalty."

"True," Teal'c agreed. "Or they may merely be so plentiful that it is preferable to let one be damaged than to allow him into the master's dwelling."

"That's just – hey, what if the Colonel is outside?" Carter turned more eagerly back to the city. "Maybe we could talk to him!" They'd agreed already that they would not steal him. Colonel Morgan never revealed the details, but she made it very clear that it would be disastrous to take him by stealth or force.

The trio turned to the city view, scanning hopefully for a sight of their missing friend. No one continued the conversation about the slaves, or theorized what might have been done to the Colonel.

oOo

Jack heard the door open and tensed. *Here it comes,* he thought miserably. He'd tried the "Jonatha, I'll kneel" story, and it had failed spectacularly. Keyna had lost his temper entirely, and pummeled Jack, then blamed him for the outburst as well as for still not offering his human-name. Shaking with anger, Keyna had gone off to decide what punishment would be sufficiently cruel.

Jack had remained where he was, lying on the floor where he'd gone down under Keyna's onslaught. He'd thought the waiting was hard, but now that he was about to find out the answer, he wished he could go back to the waiting.

"Up, mayra." It wasn't Keyna's voice.

Jack stood, looking at the black-shirted chest of one of the enforcers. He thought it was Baramo, but couldn't be absolutely certain based on two words and a barrel-like torso.

"Come, mayra." The chest turned, revealing an equally impressive back full of bulging muscles.

Jack followed nervously, down the hall and right out the door. Nearly trotting to keep up with the huge man's long strides, he missed the first few words when Baramo spoke. Jack picked up his pace, worried that he may have missed a command.

Baramo was taunting him, the same way the guards had ever since his failed suicide attempt. He was telling him about a device that had been used on Bruto, to encourage him to kill. Activated when it was squeezed, the device would sprout curved teeth of its own. The artificial jaws would wait harmlessly until the pressure was relieved, then clamp down. Keyna had asked where he could get one, for use on stubborn mayree. Baramo poked Jack with an elbow then, to be sure he got the hint that it may be for him.

But that wasn't the end of the news. Blenna had used the device on Bruto to overcome the animal's habit of backing off the kill. Baramo didn't know if that had worked or not, but it had left the animal in an absolute fury. It was blindly attacking anything and everything.

That was when they'd sent Baramo for Jack. The guard chuckled evilly as he pondered aloud just what they may have in mind. Beside him, Jack silently reminded himself of the consequences if he refused, or ran, and that anything they made him do was still preferable.

They could hear the snarling as soon as they entered the barn. Keyna and Blenna stood, casually talking, with ointment, rags, and water ready at their feet. Tarmo was nearby, at the edge of the masters' peripheral vision, standing still as a schoolboy hoping not to be called. One sleeve was shredded, but clear skin peeked through beneath. They must have healed his arm while Baramo went for Jack.

Baramo moved to stand in his usual place just behind Keyna's shoulder. Jack took his usual place, too, kneeling before the man.

"Tarmo is now Bruto's handler in the field, and too important to risk in common barn work. You are being given the great honor of working with very valuable animals, mayra." The silky voice turned icy. "Do not disappoint, or the consequences will be dire. Bring Bruto here, mayra."

Jack rose, walked to the stall emitting the angry growls and went straight in. It was scary, to say the least, but Keyna had been painfully clear about his displeasure when Jack had delayed in following an order just because sharp rahi teeth were in the way. If he hesitated or flinched, he'd be punished for sure, and worse each time.

Thankfully, Tarmo hadn't simply turned Bruto loose in the stall. The animal was fastened to the vertical bar hidden between wall panels, but it still tried to leap at him. There were no words to Bruto's growls, they seemed to be simply screams of pain and anger.

Jack walked toward him, thinking fast. If he just unhooked the beast, he'd be its dinner in seconds. He shook off the flash of hope that Bruto could kill him thoroughly enough that Keyna could not revive him. Tempting, but too risky. He went behind the animal, putting his legs astride it as if to ride, and grabbing the collar with his left hand. Bruto twisted and snarled, trying to bite, but he couldn't turn far enough. Jack swallowed and reached his right hand down and unclipped the collar from the wall.

Bruto went wild, lurching around in circles to the left as soon as his neck was freed. Jack spun with him, riding him like a bull. He grabbed the beast's right ear and pulled. Bruto jerked to the right with a scream, intending to bite his aggressor. His eye hit fingers instead of enemy or his own ear, and he yelped, jerking his head the other way again. Jack took advantage of the confusion and kneed him toward the open door.

Somehow, he managed to wrestle the animal over to the men waiting to heal him. He tried twisting around to force him down, the way he'd seen calf-ropers do on rodeo commercials. It didn't work, and there were a dizzying few moments when they rolled around atop one another.

Bruto got the upper hand, or mouth, or whatever, and pinned Jack under a huge paw, digging his claws in to ensure his hold. Jack still held the collar and one ear, and pushed them away with all his might, but he knew it wouldn't stop those huge jaws that were coming down at his face. He closed his eyes, and hoped it would be over quickly.

Hot liquid suddenly splashed on his face and neck, but there was no pain. It took a moment, but he opened his eyes to find Bruto chewing on a practice target. Blenna must keep some blood-filled ones warm to make the pretend kills more realistic. They gave the animal time to enjoy its victory, ignoring the fact that he was still standing on Jack, or maybe they were just continuing Jack's role as prey.

When Bruto calmed somewhat, Blenna commanded, "Bruto, sit." The beast stepped aside and sat. The next order was for Jack. "Mayra, up," he said in the same tone.

Jack rose.

"Bruto, lie down." He lay with a grunt.

"Mayra, pin his head as you did last time." Jack dove down. Bruto dropped the target before moving to meet this new threat, and that slowed him just enough for Jack to land without being punctured.

Blenna had chatted amiably with Keyna all through the retrieval. "It worked out well enough, my friend Keyna. Barn time is normally for obedience, but an extra 'kill' is good for Bruto. Come, let us prepare more healing herbs; the bowl has been knocked over."

"The mayra will be punished for his clumsiness, my friend Blenna," Keyna assured him.

Jack felt his head clunk down on the floor at the unfairness. He was supposed to wrestle a vicious half-wild animal and not bump into anything? He hoped Keyna had not noticed his head move, or else there may well be punishment for that as well.

"No need, my friend Keyna. The mayra is just learning, and was distracted by Bruto."

Distracted? Did the man have a talent for understatement, or did he honestly consider a killer beast just a distraction? Jack closed his eyes, hoping Keyna would go along with Blenna.

"You can excuse him this time if you wish, my friend Blenna." On the floor, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "But do not be soft on him," Keyna cautioned. "If he shows hesitation of any kind, even to protect his own body, he must be sternly corrected. It is important to his own training."

The pair stepped away, still talking. Bruto, sensing the reduction in numbers, renewed his struggles. His growls had changed to threats of what he intended to do to all the humans when he had the chance. He would rend their bodies, tear out their hearts, feast on their entrails…

"What is your problem?" Jack hissed at him, as he struggled to keep him down.

Surprisingly, the beast answered. "*They*," he spat the word, "never heal the worst pain. Only the little things. They want me to feel pain, so I want them to!"

"They look all over! What are they missing?"

"How dare you taunt me! You, laying on my head, making my teeth hurt worse, and pretending you don't know!" Bruto roared in fury. "I'll tear you to pieces!" He struggled violently to rise.

Jack held on desperately as he was bounced around. He put his hand over Bruto's nose, cutting off most of his air. The animal fought harder for a few moments, then subsided. Physically, at least. With what air he had left, he wheezed out promises of doom.

Keyna and Blenna had not returned, despite the sound. Or perhaps because of it; Keyna would surely suggest letting Jack work it out on his own, knowing he'd get injured now or earn punishments for later.

"Bite the bowl," Jack hissed urgently. "Bite the bowl! It will fix your teeth."

"You lie so I won't eat you," he accused.

"Just try it! Bite the bowl."

"Why should you help me?" he asked suspiciously.

"So you won't eat me."

Bruto made a chuffing sound, which might have been a derisive laugh, but decided to try it. He lay still, growling quiet warnings of what he would do if Jack was wrong, or worse, if Bruto himself was punished for biting the bowl then Jack would pay dearly. Blenna and Keyna returned, and calmly worked on Bruto from tail to neck.

"Roll over, mayra."

Jack rolled quickly, pressing his weight over Bruto's neck and shoulders. Bruto's snarls rose in volume as he was prevented from getting to the bowl. Jack knew he'd get punished if the animal got up before Blenna gave the word. Bruto would have to take his chance then.

Blenna healed the myriad of cuts on Bruto's face, caused by the training device. When he was finally done, he sat back and put the bowl down on the floor. "Take hold of his collar, mayra, then get up."

Jack, lying on his back atop Bruto, took an awkward hold of the collar with his left hand, then started to sit up. As soon as the pressure eased, Bruto shot to his feet, flinging Jack through a sit-up motion so fast his face smacked his knees. He was bouncing back up from there when Bruto wrenched him sideways as he lunged for the bowl. Jack flipped onto his stomach, mostly to save his back being snapped, but it put his right hand near the bowl. He grabbed for it, pushing it toward Bruto's reaching maw. Bruto grabbed the bowl, and Jack pushed up onto his knees, pushing and twisting the bowl to make sure the contents dumped into Bruto's mouth. Bruto lashed his head side to side, pulling Jack along like a rag doll.

It worked. Bruto's snarls suddenly changed, at least to Jack's ears. Bruto was shouting for joy, giddy with relief. "It's gone! It's gone! I can bite!" He crushed the bowl easily and whipped around for something else to try. The pitcher of water was easily dispatched, and he gleefully looked for something more challenging. He clomped one paw down on the formerly blood-filled target and used his teeth to rip it easily in half, then looked for more. There wasn't much left lying around the barn, so he clamped down on the outer corner of the nearest stall. "I can bite! Bite!" the words were muffled by the wood.

"Bruto, sit!"

It probably wasn't the first command Blenna had given, but it was the first that was heard over the melee. Bruto, with one final jerk, turned and sat. He'd managed to take a chunk out of the heavy wood, and the prize dangled in his grinning mouth. Jack, breathing heavily, still clung with his left hand to the collar as he sat next to the beast.

"Mayra," Blenna began to give an order, but he never finished.

The word brought Bruto's attention back to Jack. He spun, with loud thanks, knocking Jack to the ground and preparing to lick him. A target suddenly appeared in his mouth; Blenna, acting quickly, had shoved it there. Bruto was startled, then pleased to have something else to test his newly comfortable teeth on. He snapped it with one crunch, then tossed it and caught the end to crush that as well. Another target flew past his head, and he followed, towing Jack along.

"Mayra, release him."

Jack was happy to comply. In the absence of more orders, he lay where he dropped. Three targets later, Bruto was in his home stall, happily giggling about being able to bite and throwing the hard rubber shapes around.

Blenna and Keyna stood, watching the seemingly berserk Bruto in his stall. Jack lay behind them, trying to catch his breath as quickly and quietly as possible as he listened to them chat about the beast. As Bruto quieted, a whimpering sound caught their attention and ended the brief respite. Carnamo, still chained in the mayree stall, was rocking back and forth and trying to stifle his crying.

Keyna walked over and surveyed him dispassionately. Blenna came to stand by him, and describe all the incentives he had tried so far. Carnamo cried harder as each was named, huddling before them. Keyna's solution was simple. To ensure a mayra's obedience, you threaten him with something he will go to any lengths to avoid.

"I have tried everything I could think of," Blenna said, shaking his head as though the situation were hopeless.

"I must beg to disagree, my friend Blenna. You have exactly what you need right here."

Blenna looked around, puzzled.

Keyna smiled fondly, and stepped toward the doorway. Blenna followed automatically, peering out into the rainy afternoon to see if the solution was out there. Quietly, so Carnamo would not hear, Keyna asked if any of the rahi would bite on command.

Startled, Blenna stammered a bit with his answer. "I – I am not sure. The adult males hunt on command, of course, but they are accustomed to *not* biting their handlers."

Keyna considered. "We do not want to jeopardize the males' performance in the field, or risk having them hunt the mayree handlers instead of the badgers. Perhaps the female? Or a cub? That's it, a cub!" Keyna grinned at his own idea. He bowed his head, gesturing with his hands. "My friend Blenna has generously promised me a cub for my own. I shall not hunt with my cub; it will be my prize possession, sitting proudly at my feet."

Blenna smiled at the compliment.

"It shall also assist me in disciplining my mayree. Let us train *my* cub to bite on command. It will be a useful skill for mine, and will not impact the hunting of yours."

Blenna was grinning now, too. "An excellent idea, my friend Keyna! Excellent! Your reasoning is perfect."

"It can be trained so it does not bite me?" The idea seemed to come to Keyna a bit late.

"Oh, yes, my friend. Rahi are pack animals; they do not dream of aggression against their leader. Once you master your beast, it will be submissive to you at all times." He gestured toward the stalls. "Shall we pick out your new rahi?"

Keyna followed, smiling happily. They leaned over the half-stall to look at the cubs. "Take your time, my friend. If any one appeals to you particularly, it is yours. Tarmo!"

Tarmo appeared at his side. "Bring a leash, we will take the cubs out one at a time."

Tarmo trotted off, returning quickly with one leash in hand and a spare looped diagonally across his body. He waited for instructions.

"Take any cub, Tarmo, and bring it outside."

Tarmo slipped into the stall, returning with Minnie gamboling at his feet.

"This one is female, and already showing good breadth. While it is a benefit for breeding, her adult stockiness will also make her appear more powerful." Tarmo walked her down the aisle and back again. "Put her in that stall, Tarmo, and get another." Blenna indicated the stall in the corner.

Jerry was next. He grabbed Tarmo's pants leg and worried at it, ignoring the other men looking at him. Keyna laughed, and praised his ferocity.

"This may be a good choice for my friend Keyna!" Blenna had him put in a different stall, for possible picks.

Speedy, true to his name, zipped out of the stall, pulling Tarmo along. He eagerly sniffed everything and everyone, eyes and ears twitching in all directions.

"Another male, and very attentive. He may serve you well in observing your mayree, Keyna." Keyna nodded, and Blenna had Speedy put in the stall with Jerry.

Tarmo emerged with Tom, who stood calmly looking around. Blenna tossed a treat to one side and Tom pounced on it instantly.

"A natural hunter," Keyna complimented. "I would not dream of depriving my friend Blenna of the opportunity to compete with it."

Blenna smiled gratefully. Tom went into the stall with Minnie.

Gonzalez came out next, sniffing and looking about with interest. "This one is male, and will be of moderate size. See the mottling on his face? That will intensify as he grows, giving him the classic appearance of having many eyes."

Keyna chuckled. "*That* would intimidate reluctant mayra!"

Gonzalez went into the stall with Jerry and Speedy. Mighty was next, and came out growling. He snarled at everyone in turn, trying to show his dominance. He was the first to notice Jack, still lying on the floor in the aisle. Mighty took a step toward him, suspicious of the unusual behavior, pulling his lips back and showing sharp white teeth.

"An excellent beast!" Keyna complimented, "so alert and aggressive!"

Blenna had him put in with the other three males, but he did not look happy about it. Mighty was the leader of his little pack, and Blenna did not want to give him away. Still, he had offered Keyna his choice, and could not recant now.

Mickey came out next, slow and suspicious after hearing Mighty's growls. He stood his ground as he looked at Keyna, but growled at Blenna, who had hurt him before. The aggressive sound was offset by the way that he dropped low to the ground defensively.

"You see, Keyna? This one is strong and fierce, but still he knows his place with me." Blenna tried to promote Mickey as a choice to move his friend's thoughts away from Mighty.

Either Blenna's words convinced Keyna, or they didn't, but he opted away from Mickey. "With such a fierce appearance, and him knowing you already, I wouldn't think of taking him from you, my friend. He will surely do you honor in competition."

"Thank you for your kind words, my friend." Blenna waved Tarmo to take Mickey away, and the little animal followed eagerly.

"He is exceptionally fierce looking," Keyna commented, "even when he is not growling or acting aggressively."

Blenna had no choice but to explain, since Keyna had mentioned it specifically. He told him proudly about how the little one had rushed out to take on a real badger by himself, and how his face had been torn in the battle. Instead of admitting that making it scar was for resale value, he tested out his official story – he'd allowed the mighty hunter to keep the physical badge to ensure the tale of his bravery would be told many times.

Keyna was suitably impressed with the story, but had already turned down Mickey, who was put in the stall with the other cubs that were out of the running.

Millie was the last to emerge, alert and eager to see where her siblings had gone. She started for the door, hopeful of going outside again. Tarmo turned her and walked her in a circle for Keyna. As they passed Jack, who was between her and the door, she leapt again.

Keyna, thinking she was going for Jack, was impressed with her as well. "Another excellent one – she leaps at the mayra already. My friend Blenna has many amazing beasts!" He bowed toward his host. "But how am I to choose? Perhaps my friend can assist me?"

Blenna smiled. Keyna, excellent businessman as always, had given him back control. It would be impolite for him to refuse Blenna's suggestion now. "Allow me to narrow it down to two for you, my friend." He had Tarmo keep hold of Millie and bring Jerry back out.

"Walk them both, Tarmo." They started down the aisle and back. "These are the ones you saw take action against mayree, my friend." He went along with Keyna's interpretation that Millie had been going for Jack and not the door. "The female will be stockier, but the male will be taller. In appearance, it is likely he will mature to be darker than she, though that won't be certain for a few more weeks. At this point, my guess is that she will be the warm mahogany color of tree bark and he will be dark as the river silt."

Keyna was still watching the animals walk, making a show of trying to decide. In truth, it probably didn't matter that much which he chose, as long as his beast could be trained as he wanted.

"I must in good conscience speak of their voices to my friend Keyna."

"Voices? I thought they were only yappy as cubs?" Keyna looked at the cubs with suspicion, as if one or both would start yowling at him.

Blenna smiled. "Adults are silent when calm, my friend. Have no fear that your prize will keep you up at night for no reason."

Keyna relaxed.

Blenna elaborated. "It is the way of rahi that his growl will be deeper but her battle roar will be more ominous – in the wild, she would guard the young quietly until forced into battle, when her cry may help frighten off whatever is threatening her children. He, on the other hand, would confront an opponent directly as he would not be hiding with infant rahi, and use his growl to warn a combatant off."

Keyna was nodding now.

"There is one last thing," Blenna told him. "Some males, like Bruto," he smiled fondly at the mention of his prize beast, "develop impressive battle cries. Others, however, may not, and many males attack silently, using their mouths strictly for damage. This cannot be determined until they are older than these cubs are now."

Tarmo was turning them again, and Blenna reached toward Millie's leash, assuming his friend would want the one sure to sound off well.

Keyna stopped him. "I think I shall choose the male," he said slowly. "My friend Blenna works in the field, where a good battle cry is very valuable. I, however, work more often indoors, and a threatening growl is more likely to be of use to me."

Blenna's smile went from ear to ear. He took Jerry's leash and offered it formally to Keyna. "It is my very great honor to present you with your own rahi. A fine choice. I am sure he will serve you well."

Keyna took the leash with a smile, holding it and looking at his beast while Tarmo returned the others to their mother.

"He is old enough for the training we spoke of?" Keyna was watching Jerry, who was sniffing at the spot where Tom's treat had hit the floor.

"It is a bit early, but biting is natural to him, so he does not need to learn the action, only to do it on command. Shall we return to Carnamo to try him out?" Blenna turned, hardly waiting for the agreement he was sure was coming.

Keyna hadn't moved yet. He rubbed his chin, thinking. "Carnamo is valuable, my friend. We want to minimize the risk to him. If the cub – what should I name you, my prize? – is slow to learn, we may not make the best progress with Carnamo."

"What else can we do? Do I sense that my friend has a suggestion?"

"Let us try him out on my mayra," he waved at Jack, still lying on the floor. "If he does well, we will soon be ready to help Carnamo recover." He took a few steps toward Jack.

"We must act quickly for Carnamo's sake, and yours, my friend Blenna. May I suggest," he was talking to Blenna but looking at Jack. "that if the cub is slow to learn, we accelerate his lessons with your one of your own techniques?"

Keyna explained and Blenna agreed. If the beast didn't learn quickly, Jack would be made to cut its face. Jerry would be sure to bite in response to that. The bite command would be given by Keyna with each cut Jack made so the animal would get used to 'word, pain, bite.' If Jerry bit before the pain, there would be no cut. The poor baby would learn fast enough that way. When it was over, Keyna would be the one to heal the wounded animal, creating a permanent snarl similar to Mickey's if he chose, but more importantly earning his trust and gratitude.

Jack felt nauseous at the whole idea, but of course his opinions didn't matter here.

"Mayra, do you understand what we will do?"

"Yes, Keyna." Jack thought quickly, then repeated what they said, as if to confirm his understanding, but really as a way to tell poor Jerry what was intended. There was no sense making it harder on the little guy when things were going to end the same way no matter what. "You will command the rahi to bite. If he does not learn quickly, you will make me cut his face to make him bite until he learns to do it on command." It might even get Jack's part over with quickly, and spare himself some pain. There was nothing to be done for Carnamo; a time delay would gain Carnamo little and cost Jack and Jerry much.

Jerry, beside his new master, growled with disbelief. Keyna smiled at the sound.

"And what will you do when he bites, mayra?"

"I will try to stay still and allow him to bite me when you order him to, Keyna." It was a longer answer than he usually gave; he was trying to tell Jerry that he had not heard wrong.

"Good, mayra. Hmmm. What to name my new prize?" Keyna looked down at Jerry, who was sniffing at him with his nostrils crinkled as if he smelled something that had gone bad. "Bigto, perhaps?"

Jack's eyes flicked automatically to Jerry's feet. His toes didn't seem unusually big. The word must mean something here.

"Perhaps my friend Keyna would like to take some time to consider that? The little one will be with his mother for several more days yet." Blenna was eager to train the beast, so that he could be used to correct Carnamo.

Keyna cocked his head. "Do you not preface commands to your beasts with their name? I do that for my mayree. I had thought it was common for all animal training."

Blenna relaxed, now that he understood. "It is a common practice, yes. Especially when multiple animals are near. However, in this case it may not be prudent. He knows neither his name nor the command. You do not want to confuse him so that he bites at the sound of his name."

Keyna nodded. "My friend Blenna is very sensible indeed. Let us begin." He turned to Jack. "Mayra, I shall bring the beast near. When I give the command to bite, you will swing your hand at him aggressively, so he instinctively snaps. Do you understand, mayra?"

"Yes, Keyna. You will bring Je—the rahi near and command him to bite. I will swing my hand at him and he will bite it."

Keyna came the last step to Jack, and Jerry followed automatically. There was a pause. Then Keyna said, "Bite!" sharply.

Jack swatted at Jerry's face. Jerry, who's expression looked for all the world like Teal'c's when he observed a silly-seeming Earth custom, half-heartedly nipped it.

Keyna praised him enthusiastically, patting him and giving him a treat. "Bite!" he said again. Jack took another swing, and Jerry gently grabbed the hand in his teeth. Keyna praised him again, telling him what a smart creature he was, and giving another treat.

"Hit him harder next time, mayra. We want a nice solid attack."

"Yes, Keyna, I will hit him harder." He hoped Jerry understood that it was Keyna giving the orders and not Jack wanting to hurt him.

"Bite!"

Jack swung at Jerry, hard and fast. Jerry, expecting it, dodged and caught the hand on the backswing. His hold was firm, but not really painful.

It went on for a few more tries. Keyna was ecstatic at the animal's quick learning, but disappointed in the mildness of the attack. He thought it might be similar to Bruto's own issue of not following through on the kill. Beside him, Jerry was muttering that this was a stupid game and he hoped it was over so the silly man who played it would go away. Jack, the only one to understand the sounds, sympathized.

It was Blenna's turn to offer up a suggestion. He took Jack to the backroom where the targets were stuffed with laxila, rubber, or other things. Jack was made to rub some herbs on his arms – Blenna had told Keyna the stuff was like catnip to the rahi, and used in training – and then return and assault Jerry more aggressively. That had the desired effect. They ended up playing tug-of-war with Jack's arm, Jerry growling heartily and jerking his head back and forth. At least that's the part Jack remembered. Then there was screaming – probably his own, it hurt like hell – then everything went dark.

He awoke to a slap from Keyna, and an impatient command to get up. They repeated the exercise, and only Jack's fear of Keyna's punishment for refusal kept him going. This time had the added bonus of Carnamo as an audience, to make sure he knew that the rahi was capable of some significant damage despite his small size. The third time was done without the catnip herbs, or Carnamo, to see if Jerry had learned to attack intensely. Thankfully, he had, and the third time was the last. Jerry thought the game was much more fun when his prey thrashed and screamed and bled.

Jack woke on his own this time, discarded in the aisle where he'd collapsed. They had healed him at least, instead of leaving him to suffer until he had another job to do. That was probably Blenna's idea; he was much more practical with his mayree than the cruel Keyna. Or perhaps Jerry had bitten through an artery, and they'd had to repair it so he wouldn't bleed to death. Either way, he was grateful to be left alone for a while.

Carnamo was not so lucky. He could hear Keyna giving the sobbing slave orders. Handle the adult rahi, which had no particular reason to bite, or else the young rahi would attack for sure. In Keyna's view, a simple matter of choosing possible pain over certain pain. To Carnamo, probably his worst nightmare.

It went on and on, as they progressed Carnamo until he was giving commands to the mother beast. His attempts to sound firm sounded more like hysterical screeches. It wasn't long before she began to show her annoyance by snapping.

Surprisingly, it was Keyna who called an end to it for the day. He ordered Tarmo to feed the beast then take her back to the cubs. He praised Carnamo lavishly, telling him how strong he was and that he'd be back to his old self in no time, before allowing him to scurry to the safety of his own stall. He and Blenna walked toward Jack again, where they could talk without being overheard by Carnamo.

"I am sure my friend knows best, but may I ask why we stopped?" Blenna was eager to go on. "We have made so much progress!"

"Indeed," Keyna smiled at him. "I am pleased as well. But I fear if we push too hard, he may break down completely. He very nearly crossed that point when the adult rahi snapped at him. He needed to end with the first success afterwards." Keyna turned serious. "Ordinarily, I would take several days for this, but there is little time before the competition so speed is necessary. I must advise my good friend Blenna that there is serious risk that this mayra will crack under the strain, and be irrecoverable. It may be wise to have Tarmo practice Carnamo's competition role."

Blenna sagged. "What am I to do? If Tarmo takes Carnamo's position, then I will be holding the beasts myself at the competition. It will look as if I am a very poor man indeed, and who will expect quality beasts from a poor man?" He looked to Keyna. "Could you get Carnamo to do Tarmo's part with certainty? It is less intense."

Keyna answered slowly. "Perhaps. It may be safer to try that." He was going to say more but was interrupted by a cry from the other end of the barn.

Tarmo came hurrying up, dropping to his knees and holding out both hands, palms down, but shaking them up and down to show his request to be heard had urgency.

"What is it, Tarmo?" Blenna was looking toward the beast stalls for a clue.

"It is, master, it is, it is Carnamo!" Tarmo was shaking.

"What about Carnamo?" Blenna demanded. "Come, mayree!"

Keyna was already striding toward the slaves' stall, and Blenna followed quickly. It was empty, and both spun, alert for an escaping slave.

Carnamo was found quickly enough. He was slumped by the towel-drying rack, suspended by a choke chain around his neck. A cloth was stuffed in his mouth, only he would know if it was to ensure silence or help suffocate himself.

Tarmo was shaking, trying to control himself. He made unfamiliar gestures with his hands, and Jack guessed they were either wards against evil or meant to help Carnamo's spirit pass on. For his own part, Jack stood still, averting his eyes from the twisted purple face and saying a silent blessing for the dead.

Jack was given the task of removing the body. When he made it to the little room Blenna had indicated, he found a big butcher block and an assortment of large knives. He firmly told himself to remember the weapons for tactical uses if he ever had a chance to escape, and not to think of the room's likely purpose of making rahi chow. He gave Carnamo what dignity he could, closing the bulging eyes, arranging his limbs neatly and covering his face with the rag that had been in his mouth.

Jack busied himself cleaning the spot where Carnamo had died, scrubbing up the remnants of feces and spittle, then washing the rags. He worked as slowly as he dared, delaying any potential of being assigned the grisly task of turning the dead man into pet food.

Blenna was beside himself. Not with grief over Carnamo, though he repeatedly commented on how good he had been prior to the rahi/badger incident. He was more worried about the prospect of going to the competition with only one mayra and looking impoverished. He babbled as he paced back and forth, trying to work up solutions. The rahi training community was small, and no one was likely to sell an experienced handler at any price so near a competition for fear the slave would tell his former master's secrets. If was also not unheard of for an owner to find sufficient incentive to ensure the mayra he sold would sabotage his new master in competition, so if he did manage to find one, could he trust him? Perhaps a particularly well-trained mayra could be found, without experience of rahi but accustomed to instant execution of orders? An expensive option, but the upcoming competition was critical for Blenna's business plans.

Blenna stopped abruptly as Jack was hanging up a cloth on the drying rack, near the spot where Carnamo had been. Jack tensed, expecting the dreaded command to, well, *process* Carnamo's body.

Blenna turned, not to Jack, but to Keyna. "My friend Keyna, I would like to purchase this mayra from you." He indicated Jack, then waved his hands in the formal gesture of offering.

Jack felt his hopes rise. Blenna, while not exactly killing his slaves with kindness, was not nearly as likely as Keyna to kill them with cruelty. And he'd still be near enough that if any rescue ever did come, they would still find him.

Keyna hesitated, clearly thinking fast, his eyes flicking to the back room where Carnamo lay, and narrowing as they switched over to Jack.

Blenna saw the glance. "This one doesn't have much experience," he agreed with what he thought was Keyna's hesitation, maybe also thinking it could lower the price, "but he is unafraid of rahi, and I could take both mayree to the hills for a few days of intense training. It is my best chance."

Still Keyna hesitated. He all but glared at Jack, as if he were deliberately preventing the sale.

"The fire is hot," Blenna said enticingly, waving toward the hearth, "we could seal the deal and brand him here and now."

oOo

Daniel, almost done checking the cart for the final time, paused as his fingers brushed a shiny silver packet. "Vaya con queso," Jack used to quip. Daniel could practically hear him say it, including the lilt at the end that gave away that it was no accidental slip of the tongue. Vaya con queso. Go with cheese. It used to drive him nuts – which was probably Jack's reason for continuing to say it – because it was a deliberate misuse of language and it wasn't even a good pun. Later, it had become somewhat of an inside joke at the SGC. Few of the planets populated by the Goa'uld had animals. As a result, few of the alien people they met had ever tasted cheese, or milk, or ice cream or any other dairy product. Dairy had turned out to be nearly as popular as chocolate as a trading commodity. It was now common practice to carry some packets of cheese sauce to offer for shared meals with new alien acquaintances; it was sealed, and, like soup, was easiest to split when you didn't know in advance how many people you'd be dining with. Jack's little joke had become SOP, standard operating procedure.

Jack. Daniel's fingertips traced designs on the squishy surface of the cheese pack as he thought of his friend. So many things were running through his mind, and his heart.

"We'll get him out of here, Daniel," a voice said gently in his ear.

Sam had come up next to him, and he hadn't even noticed. He knew what Jack would say about that, too. Giving himself a little shake, and offering her a tiny wry smile, he agreed. "It's about time!"

"Indeed," Teal'c added. He was standing on the other side of the cart. There was little room between it and the wall in their little shelter, and he preferred the greater freedom on the other side.

Sam looked down, reaching to close the canvas cover over the top. "Vaya con queso," she murmured, seeing where Daniel's hand still rested. She gave him a sympathetic glance, and he looked away. He needed strength now, not tenderness. "Let's go." Daniel pulled the canvas cover closed and took a step toward the back of the wagon.

Sam joined him. They would push the cart instead of pulling it, the better to show that they were merchants. Bright banners waived cheerily off the corners of the cart. As the "official" from the mountain city, Teal'c would walk behind them. It would also give him freedom to go on the defense if they were attacked.

When they were near the city, they paused to check each other's appearance. Each wore a flowing cloak, brilliant blue on the outside, as apparent leaders in the city had worn, and leafy green on the inside in case they needed them for cover in the woods. They were clasped at the shoulders with pretty stones which conveniently covered their radios on one side, and fluttered open at the fronts, showing loose tunic and trousers in a lighter shade of blue. Under those, the portable siege weapons were wrapped around their waists, and as a final layer they wore close fitting dark clothes for potential stealth operations.

Satisfied with their looks, they made a final adjustment to the cart. Switching on Daniel's IPOD, they trumpeted triumphal-sounding music through tiny speakers, and turned to walk the last distance to the town. By the time they cleared the trees, there were a dozen or more people curiously looking for the source of the music. As they walked slowly closer, the crowd grew and grew. They slowed, raising their arms and spreading them wide as if in greeting, smiling at one and all.

A military contingent appeared to the left, moving at a quick-march pace.

The trio stopped and waited to be approached.

One man strode at the head of the armed forces, with two others close on either side, holding shields. This was clearly the leader, flanked by protectors in case the newcomers attacked.

"Dig the handlebar eyebrows," Sam murmured.

A chuckle escaped Daniel, and it made him feel better. He could handle this. The stakes were high, but meeting alien cultures was something he'd done dozens of times now. It wasn't like poor Janet, back home trying to help cure a strange illness that was sweeping the country. He could bargain with *his* adversary, and one of their fallback plans – purchasing Jack, wiping the leaders' memory, or euthanizing their friend – was practically guaranteed to succeed. He let the alien leader approach, trying not to watch the tips of the excessively long eyebrows as they waggled humorously.

The warriors stopped, and the man with the handlebar eyebrows came the last few steps, still flanked by his guardians.

Daniel lowered the volume on the music, and stepped to the front. Sam took a couple of steps forward, but on the other side of the cart. It seemed unintentional, but it was purposefully done to provide her shelter if a fight broke out. Teal'c stood still in regal silence a few feet away.

"Baron Honna asks your name and purpose," the right-hand protector said in a bold voice. He extended his hands, both palms up, demanding an answer.

Daniel bowed his head, and waved slowly at himself and his companions. "We come from the city in the mountains."

A ripple went through the crowd at that, and whispers started.

"We have only recently found a way past the blockage," Daniel went on. "We wish to meet you, and perhaps begin peaceful trade. We bring sample wares," he waved his hand, and Sam pulled back the canvas cart cover. Bright stone jewelry, deliberately arranged on top, twinkled in the sunlight, nestled in soft cloth of sumptuous colors. The crowd oooh'd and ahhh'd, edging a bit closer for a better look.

The Baron's eyes were drawn to the pretty colors, but only for a moment. He turned back to the newcomers, speaking for himself now. "Your goods are appealing, potential friend. But I must ask myself why, if you are truly from the mountain city, you do not come at the head of your army to show that you are fully restored?"

"A wise question, my potential friend," Daniel agreed politely, picking up the formal manner of speaking. "It was our thought that to approach in force a city already at war could spark an unwanted fight. Yet we would not sneak quietly into town when we are the proud messengers of the mountain city. We chose three emissaries," he waved at himself, Teal'c, and Carter, "to bring our message. If we do not return, then our army can act." He knew Teal'c and Sam would both be annoyed at the choice of "can act" instead of the stronger "will act" but he hated to lie, and there was little chance of any army coming to save or avenge them.

"I am called Daniel, and I am a historian in our city." A murmur went through the crowd, and he thought it must be because of his occupation. Perfect time to start a cover story for any cultural mistakes they made. "Much was lost when our city was separated. Hard times forced us to change many of our habits. I beg you to forgive any customs we have that seem strange to you. As historian, I would also ask that you explain any differences you observe."

Daniel turned, and bowed to Teal'c. "This man is Teal'c." He paused, a bit flustered by another wash of whispers in the crowd. "Teal'c is a leader of our city. The choice of one so high shows you the strength of our desire to become friends and begin trade."

Teal'c inclined his head, but only his head. At his rank, they had decided he should not bow. "This is Samantha," Teal'c said, indicating her.

Daniel noted curiously that there were no whispers at her introduction.

Teal'c was still talking. "She is sister to Daniel and also my own bride." He made the gesture that Morgan's team had observed several men making toward women.

There was a jolly tittering in the crowd.

The Baron waved them to silence, but was grinning widely, his curvy dark brows rolling like waves. "Our friend is a new-made groom indeed if he greets his wife with the symbol of servitude!"

Teal'c, ever quick on the uptake, came right back. He held out a hand and Carter took it delicately. "She is dearer to me than my own heart, as, by extension, is her brother." He looked calmly at the Baron, but the message was clear enough. The other two mattered to a ranking official, and would be treated accordingly.

"We offer you a gift to commemorate our meeting," Teal'c said formally.

Carter took one of the decorative amulets off the cart and walked slowly to the Baron, watching his reaction. He inclined his head, and she draped the amulet over his neck, pausing to admire it for a moment before backing off.

"I thank you for the gift, my new friends," Honna said formally. "I offer my hospitality to you."

Daniel swept his arms out and back, drawing the words toward him. "We gladly accept our new friend's offer."

Honna paused a moment, perhaps thinking of what Daniel had said earlier about cultural differences. "You are far more than common merchants, you are honored guests. We would be privileged to entertain you, and show you our fair city. We will view your wares after a proper dinner, as is our custom."

Daniel and Carter both smiled and bowed. Teal'c inclined his head.

"Excellent!" Baron Honna gestured to the cart. "When you are made comfortable, I would like to hear tales of the mountain city. In the meantime, will you honor us with more of your music while we walk?"

Carter turned it back up, and they, along with the Baron and his bodyguards, headed a procession into the city, getting the attention of everyone they passed. They were soon ensconced in an airy pavilion near the center of town, with open sides and a roof of colorful cloth that undulated in the breeze. Their cart was proudly displayed, and passersby craned their necks for a glimpse of the contents. Slaves in black scurried to bring drinks and light refreshments.

Baron Honna asked questions about the mountain city, which Daniel answered according to the stories he'd made up before arriving. He led the conversation mostly toward the town's history, out of interest and a lack of volume of things to say about the mountain.

Teal'c asked about the city, how it was laid out, commerce, and such, questions a governor would ask. Conveniently, the answers would also help when searching for a slave. Baron Honna explained that they kept to the traditional layout; mills and farms, which needed space, were at the outskirts. Then houses, shops, and armories in concentric circles. The armories, the most critical buildings in war time, were at the center, where they were most easily defended.

Baron Honna laughed as he finished. "As you can see, my own house is very far out on the outskirts, as my lady wife is only now arriving."

An angry expression flitted across the face of the tall blonde woman who was approaching, quickly replaced by a polite smile. "I came as quickly as may be, my husband, while observing the proper attire."

Carter jumped in on that one. She didn't know what was wrong with the Baron's clothes, but she did know what might appeal to the bejeweled woman. "I am Samantha, wife to Teal'c," she gave a half-curtsy to him, "and sister to Daniel." She nodded at the other man. "May I present you with a gift?"

That earned a true smile, and she accepted. "I am Quinna, wife to Honna, and I would be happy to accept."

Carter stepped to the cart. She offered an amulet to Quinna, who took it and draped it over her neck. "I have an additional trinket, from one leader's wife to another." She held out her hand, exposing two small circles.

Teal'c smiled. Everything was going according to plan so far. "My lady wife understands the value of information. These can be quite useful in politics."

Quinna looked closer at the rings, which sported large dark stones.

"We call them 'mood rings.' The metal is quite delicate, and the stones change color with the wearer's mood," Carter explained. "You can tell when the one you are negotiating with becomes happy or angry." She murmured something additional to Quinna. Daniel caught the word 'husband,' and Quinna chuckled.

Quinna slipped one on, and offered the other to Honna. They both sat quietly for a moment, gasping as his turned blue and hers green. "Amazing!" she exclaimed, holding it near her heart.

"We have brought many of them, a gift from our city to yours. We will be happy to offer them as tokens as we visit your city. You will know the mood of many you meet." *And Jack will know someone from home is nearby if he sees cheesy little mood rings showing up.*

~oOo~

"Why do you think Honna sent you instead of Daniel?" Carter murmured to Teal'c. They were strolling along the city street, heading toward what looked like a marketplace. Honna himself had suggested the pair wander the city and get to know his people. "And why didn't he send anyone with us?"

Teal'c had a ready answer. "He wishes me, as a leader of our city, to see the strength of his city. I believe his intent is to show his power, that I will have no desire to battle against it. I am also certain that he will interview many who see us, asking them if we focused on his battlements and whether we seemed impressed. As historian, Daniel Jackson is less suited to his purpose of measuring our response. At the same time, a historian is more likely to let slip important details about our city than a political leader."

"Makes sense," Carter agreed. The corners of her mouth twisted up in a smirk. "Daniel didn't seem too happy about it, though." If she knew Daniel – and she did – he would much rather see the way of life of the citizens and talk to everyday people than sit and make small talk with a politician.

"He was not," Teal'c agreed, suppressing his own smile. "Undoubtedly, he will make the best of it and learn much about how this city is ruled."

~oOo~

The baron was pointing out the various mayree serving them and telling Daniel about them and their history. Most, men and women alike, were prisoners of the war between this and the neighboring tribe. The rest were the children and grandchildren of slaves.

A quartet of slaves approached together, one bearing a tray laden with engraved goblets. She sank smoothly to her knees as soon as the empty-handed trio had each taken a goblet from the tray. The three eyed each other, being very careful to offer the glasses at exactly the same moment.

"Thank you," Daniel said to the air in general, not sure whether he should thank the woman servant as well as the host. He decided to offer them a compliment. "These servants are lovely, as were all the others, my friend."

"Thank you, Danya-el." It was Quinna, not Honna, who spoke, correcting herself mid-sentence from making his name end with an 'a.' "I pride myself on keeping up the appearance of our household, including the mayree, so it pleases me that you notice my efforts." She smiled at him. "Of course, normally all four would have matching coloring, but the tray-bearer is in training." She waved at the tray bearer, now surrounded by the other three, all kneeling and waiting for the order to leave.

It had not had any significance whatsoever to Daniel that the trio were redheaded while the tray-bearer was blonde. Now that Quinna pointed it out, though, he realized there were relatively few blonde slaves. Most had hair in some reddish shade. He filed that fact away for later consideration, and decided that a compliment was in order to reassure his hostess that her choice of servants was perfectly fine.

"She is lovely," he said, "you have excellent taste."

Quinna beamed.

Honna, however, read more into it than intended. "Mayra," he gestured sharply at the blonde, and she rose and walked over to stand before Daniel. She stole a shy peek at him from close up. "You will service him tonight."

Daniel's gasp was nothing compared to hers. Before he could politely demur, she threw herself to Honna's feet.

"Master! Kind master, please, no! Do not make me do this!"

Honna kicked her, hard, and she rolled completely over. "How dare you!" he shouted. "Your body is mine, and will be used as I direct!"

The girl lay on her belly, crying, holding both hands out palms down. "Please, good master! I beg you! I will service the entire guard staff if you wish. Just not him! Not him!"

Daniel was speechless. He hadn't wanted the girl, and didn't expect her to want him. But to prefer to take on a whole crew of unknown men instead?

Honna noticed his guest's shock, and it upset him all the further. "A thousand thousand apologies, honored guest!" He bowed repeatedly, as did Quinna beside him. The redheaded trio cowered, faces in the dirt.

The blond girl kept whimpering, "Mercy, my kind master, mercy!"

Honna was apoplectic with anger. Quinna spoke for him. "Choose the manner of her death, honored guest, and it will be carried out at once, in your sight or out of it. These others shall be executed as well, so you can be assured that no one will ever know what happened here."

"I, uh, wow," Daniel was trying to regain his composure and decide what could salvage this situation. "I, I don't want anyone to die. I appreciate the offer, and all, but, um, can we settle for never mentioning this again?"

Honna quickly accepted that suggestion, waving an arm for another servant, standing discreetly out of earshot, to approach.

"Oh, wait," Daniel said. Honna flicked his hand, and the fifth servant retreated. "May I ask if there is some polite explanation of what caused her reaction? If my appearance is offensive in some way, and you, my hosts, have been kindly ignoring it, I would like to correct it."

Honna kicked the blonde onto her back. She lay there, except for flipping her hands to keep them palms down in the gesture for mercy. "Explain yourself, mayra!"

She spoke in a shaky voice. "It is his, his hair, my kind and gentle master. Some strands are turning silver." She sobbed. "My original master had a mayra whose hair did that. Lord Keyna said it was a sign of a grievous disease and that the mayra must never, never be touched in that way lest we die!"

Daniel was excited by the news. It was a relief to find out he wasn't disgusting, of course, but if gray hair was unheard of, then the person she spoke of must be Jack. As soon as he thought it, he paled with the worry that if they thought him diseased, they had euthanized him.

Honna had waved the fifth slave close again, and was speaking to him. "Take these four where we can see but not hear and cut out their tongues. Allow them to cry or scream, but if any speaks so much as one word, kill them all. Go."

The male slave turned at once and began to walk away. Such was the training of slaves on this planet that all four women stumbled after him, sobbing and holding each other, but not daring to refuse.

"Wait," Daniel said. "That isn't necessary. I understand now, and I'm not angry."

"You are very kind, honored guest," Honna said, placing his hands over his heart. "We truly appreciate your generosity. We shall, at your request, consider our debt to you for the offense paid. However, the offense to me is not. I will not allow any chance that a story of my mayree insulting a guest will ever be told."

"Isn't that a bit, ah, extreme? Couldn't you just order them not to talk?" He tried to be delicate, but he had to say something.

"You have seen already that fear can cause disobedience," Honna pointed out with a frown. "Surely you would not trust your secrets to just anyone?"

"Well, no, not secrets, but this was not a matter of security, just an insult."

Honna's eyebrows rose at the word security, and Daniel could almost see his ears perk up at the idea that his guest had knowledge of the mountain city's security.

"There is little more precious than a man's reputation," Honna pointed out, perhaps a bit sternly. "Anyway, it does not matter anymore." He gestured at something behind Daniel's shoulder.

The male servant approached, and set four wet red strips at Honna's feet. "None spoke, master." He bowed, and held the position, waiting to be dismissed.

Daniel stared at the tongues in morbid fascination. They were longer than he had expected, and steamed gently in the brisk air, still warm with the heat of the bodies they had just left.

"Perhaps our guest would like the souvenirs?" Quinna asked politely.

"No!" Daniel jumped, realizing he must have been distracted for several seconds. The male slave was back in his original position, wiping gore from his hands onto the hem of his shirt. Beyond him, the four women walked away, bent over and with blood running over their hands that covered their mouths. As he glanced, the three redheads, helping each other along, shoved the blonde before them. He deliberately looked away from them, and their tongues, back to Quinna. "I mean, no," he said it more gently this time, "but thank you for the offer."

She smiled at him, and he ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly nonplussed by the whole event. The feel of the strands in his fingers prompted him. "You should know that my hair color is not a sign of any sickness," he told his hosts.

They had delicately edged away at some point, and now relaxed their posture. "Of course it is not," Honna said stoutly.

"When we get older – or are under a lot of stress," he added that quickly, not wanting to set himself up as being overly old if that was bad here, and in hindsight there had been no elderly people in Morgan's videos, "our hair can turn silver."

"Really?" Quinna leaned closer to look for the silver among the other fair strands. "How old are you?"

Honna patted her arm suddenly. "It is the wars!" he exclaimed. "Or, rather, it is not." He turned to Daniel. "You have had no fighting to thin your ranks since you were separated! It is rare here to live past the age of thirty-six. How long do people live in," he hesitated just a fraction as he recalled the name they had given for their city, "Cheyenne Mountain City?" He seemed excited by the question, perhaps because he looked to be in his early thirties and therefore near the end of his presumed lifespan.

"Seventy or eighty years is common. A few live to be a hundred."

"People can live that long!" They were both surprised, and suitably impressed.

"Yes, and they can be quite active as well. In fact," *here we go, do this right,* Daniel told himself, "we sent a party of four ahead to scout, a few weeks ago. Only three returned. The fourth is a man with silver hair. Have you seen him?"

"You sent spies to our city!" Quinna rose again, her voice rising shrilly.

Honna was a beat behind her, but held his temper long enough to check his facts. "Were these four warriors or mayree?" At the last word, Quinna's head tilted back and her eyes relaxed, it was clearly something she had not thought of. Daniel took the cue.

"They were mayree, of course," he assured them, picking the more favorable answer. "We want to be friends. We would not send warriors."

"You see?" Honna patted Quinna's arm, and she sat back down with a self-conscious laugh.

"Of course, of course." She cast about for something else to restart the conversation, and noticed that their goblets had been upset by the recent events. She flicked one hand up to shoulder height, and a servant appeared moments later, bowing as she waited for an order. She ordered replacement drinks, and the woman, a redhead, turned quickly to obey. "Rubies only, no pearls."

The woman bobbed her head in confirmation and scurried away.

Quinna turned back to the men, noticing Daniel's curious look. She smiled. "I call the red haired slaves rubies and the blondes pearls. It distinguishes them in a way that I find appealing, and it gives them a sense of value." She inclined her head. "There will be no more blonde servants to remind you of anything unpleasant."

Since the subject had come up again, and he was curious anyway, Daniel asked why some of the slaves were fair-haired like the baron while most were dark-haired like the people of the enemy city.

The baron seemed surprised at the question. "Once a Mayree, always a Mayree," he explained. Captured slaves remained slaves, even if they were originally of one's own city.

The archaeologist in him found that intriguing. He had seen many cultures that enslaved captured people, of course. But never one that didn't free its own people when they were recovered. He considered how to ask delicately. "That is…different…than our ways. Tell me, if a man or woman is captured today and recovered tomorrow, does he or she remain Mayree?"

The baron considered. "Perhaps not after a single day. But it doesn't take long before a Mayra's spirit is irrecoverably broken. Once taken, no one has ever been able to function as a free man again."

"Have you let them try?" The friend in him didn't believe that the indomitable Jack O'Neill had been broken at all, let alone in mere days. The humanitarian in him was angered at the assumption that all slaves were irredeemable.

The baron bristled at that, and Daniel quickly continued. "I mean no disrespect, baron. I am just curious, of course. It is a long time before our..mayree…are unable to return to their prior places."

"It would seem our training methods are more effective than yours, then," the baron snapped. "Meaning no disrespect, of course." He said it sharply, clearly observing the courtesy without the feeling.

"None taken, baron." Daniel needed to get the conversation back on safer ground if he was going to keep the man friendly. "I can say already and with certainty that you train slaves much more quickly than we do."

That seemed to mollify him somewhat. "We do pride ourselves on breaking a new Mayra quickly. After that, it is merely a matter of detail. My handler is one of the best. His Mayree find even the thought of refusal or escape inconceivable."

"Really?" Daniel choked out the question, doubts creeping into his mind. Morgan had said that Jack was secured, but her team had seen no physical restraint. Had he simply refused to escape?

"Oh, yes!" The baron's good humor was returning. "Keyna often tests his Mayree with opportunities to disobey or even escape. Simple things, at first, such as setting a starving mayra to discarding the kitchen scraps." He chuckled. "You should see some of the tests he sets his mayree before declaring them fully trained! That man is a genius!"

"I'd love to meet him," Daniel said with honest enthusiasm. The Baron had used the same name that the servant girl had. His friend was the one who had Jack.

"Certainly," the Baron agreed. He waved for the watching male servant again, and the man approached.

Trying to sound like it was an afterthought, Daniel suggested asking Keyna to bring along his silver haired mayra to see if it was the one who had not returned to Daniel.

Honna agreed, with a caution that if Keyna had documentation of a fair capture, then the slave was now his and they had no right to ask for it back for free. It wasn't as if either Keyna or Honna had a debt to Daniel to obligate the mayra's return.

Daniel nodded, covering his speechless anger at himself by taking a sip from his goblet and biting the rim angrily. He had spent a lifetime studying people, alive and past, and had quickly recognized that these people valued honor and repayment of seemingly trivial debts. Honna would have gone to great lengths to oblige any demand after the incident with the servant girl, and as city leader could probably arrange virtually anything. Daniel could have just asked for Jack!

The conversation wore on, with Daniel dutifully attentive to both Honna and Quinna. He was about to ask about Jack again, when he saw him approaching. He was dressed in the black of slavery and followed, eyes downcast, a step behind a colorfully dressed man. Between the man's hand and Jack's neck sparkles danced, and at first Daniel thought it was some kind of energy beam. As they neared, he could see there was a black strap, almost invisible against the dark soil, and the sparkling came from small shiny objects on it that glittered in the sun. Daniel's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't comment. Jack looked tired, but basically ok. So whatever form the discipline took, it wasn't leaving marks outside his clothing or preventing him from walking.

When the man stopped, Jack knelt beside him with his eyes lowered. He didn't even glance at Daniel.

"You see?" the baron said, sweeping his arm toward the colonel. "He already begins to accept his station." To the handler, he said, "You have done well, Keyna. Our visitor may have once owned this mayra, and I'm sure he is quite impressed with your progress."

Keyna smiled in pleasure.

"Yes..." Daniel said hesitantly. He noticed Jack start slightly at the sound of his voice. The colonel must have really kept his eyes down the whole way, and did not know where he'd been led or who else was there. It worried him; Jack was usually the first to bend rules, sneak peeks, anything for information or a chance at escape. "He was once mine, and actually I would like him back. May I ask your price?"

The Baron raised a hand, and shook his head slightly. "Here in Adel city, business is for after dinner, my new friend. And you did ask me to let you know when your custom was different from ours." He smiled. "Let us invite our friend Keyna to join us for dinner, and afterward you may bargain for the mayra."

"I am honored to join you, my Lord Baron," Keyna said formally, bowing and waving his arms toward himself to accept the offer. "However, I must tell you that this mayra has already been spoken for. Had he done better in his training," he spared a glare for Jack, and jerked the leash in irritation, "he would even now be branded and in active service of his new master. As it is, I was just on my way to have a final… discussion… on behavior with the mayra before he is taken on a trial basis."

"I will take him as-is, my friend Keyna," Daniel offered, mimicking the gesture he had seen Honna use when making an offer. "You need not trouble yourself with further training. You could enjoy the day with us instead and we can talk of the profitable trades in our future. I will be most amenable to someone who restored my pride by restoring my mayra to me." Daniel did his best to entice Keyna to the deal.

The Baron chuckled with delight. "Two bidders for one mayra! Our friend Keyna is lucky indeed. Will he choose to stay with the original offer, even if it means further training? Or will he allow a higher bid, sweetened with unconditional acceptance?"

Keyna scoffed. "I do not sell imperfect mayree."

"Perfection is in the eye of the, er, owner," Daniel debated. "I was happy with him before you even started, my new friend."

"Your standards are too low, my new friend," Keyna admonished gently. "You will find him much changed after my tutelage."

"You do seem to have made quite a difference in him. May I ask exactly how you did it?"

Keyna frowned. "That is not something to be spoken of in this company."

"Please pardon me, Keyna. I meant no disrespect," Danliel replied immediately. "We have never been so successful in so short a time, and so I was curious."

"Indeed, Keyna," the baron chimed in. "Our honored guest here was never able to completely control the mayra!"

"Is it a property of the leash that makes him obey?"

"The leash?" Keyna laughed. "It is nothing but a strip of animal hide. I use it because it pleases me to see the obvious sign of his servitude. And because it angers him to wear it. Do you like your leash, Mayra?"

"No, Keyna." His response was completely devoid of emotion. *Just do your duty, soldier, he reminded himself. Think of the alternative...*

Keyna noticed Daniel's apprehensive glance in his direction at the Mayra's negative answer. He smiled. "The Mayra has already learned the value of honesty. He will not dare to lie. He hates his leash, and must say so if asked. Would that he learned all his lessons as quickly!" Keyna casually tightened it around the colonel's neck. Jack did not resist. Keyna nudged the kneeling man with his toe. "If you beg me, I will remove it," he offered.

Jack did not respond.

"Ask but once and I will remove your leash." He turned his wrist, and the leash twisted, the sharp edged stones now facing skin instead of air.

Still no response. Keyna tightened the leash further; Jack's breath whistled slightly as he struggled to take in air. Slim streaks of blood trickled down his neck from where the stones dug in. "Merely raise one hand in supplication and I will remove it."

Jack did nothing. The offer hadn't included the word "Mayra" - if he acted upon it, he would be punished. Keyna was just playing with him.

"You see?" Keyna sighed, releasing the pressure without bothering to look down at his charge. "He will not ask. He is still too proud to be a good mayra. Aren't you, Mayra?"

"Yes, Keyna."

"But he is learning. Aren't you, Mayra?"

"Yes, Keyna."

"Shall we see what he does if I release him?" Keyna unsnapped the leash, dropping it in the dirt.

Daniel saw a resigned look flit across Jack's face, and a smirk across Keyna's, though he didn't understand it. He couldn't know that the silty soil would stick to the bloody stones, and harden like concrete when it dried. Or that Jack would have to sacrifice hours of sleep to polish them up or face punishment for starting the next day with his leash dirty.

"Good boy." He patted the man on the head deliberately, as if he were a pet. Jack's face twitched as he suppressed a scowl. "Mayra, run and get a cold drink for me that I may toast to the Baron Honna and his lady wife Quinna."

Daniel watched in amazement as Jack ran, actually ran, off on his errand. And ran quickly back to kneel before him and offer the drink.

Daniel tried to decide what to do. "May I speak with him?" Daniel decided to try the direct approach.

"Ask him whatever you wish."

"Ja-- Mayra? Are you alright?"

Jack cocked his head at the handler and did not answer. Keyna smiled and stroked the kneeling man's hair in a demeaning way. "Very good, mayra. Answer his questions."

"I'm alright," Jack said.

Keyna struck him, hard enough to knock him all the way over onto his back. Daniel tensed, expecting Jack to fight back. After one instinctive twitch back at his attacker, Jack subsided, remaining on the ground. Despite his still-averted eyes, Jack had the tense expression usually seen when he was urgently trying to think of a way to talk himself out of a bad situation.

"You are to address him as 'honored guest', mayra!" the handler snapped.

"Yes, Keyna." Far from anger, Jack's tone sounded grateful, as if the other man had given him a gift. Later, Daniel would find out that he had; the gift of learning a rule at the comparatively modest cost of only a punch.

"So you train by violence?" Daniel asked disdainfully, hoping to embarrass him into stopping the physical abuse, at least in front of him. He wasn't naïve enough to believe there wouldn't be pain or humiliation while Jack was captive, but he could encourage that it happen privately, between only Jack and his subjugator.

Keyna looked calmly back at him. "We do not often do so. But he transgressed in front of the Baron and an honored guest and must be corrected in your presence. It is a simple and immediate correction, and betrays no guild secrets."

Keyna looked down at Jack. "How many times have you been physically punished by me, mayra?"

"Three, Keyna." Jack said, not meeting his eyes or moving from the ground.

"You see? Even he confirms that he is not being abused." Jack looked like he had something to say about that, but didn't make a sound. "You may continue to speak with him if you like." He didn't tell Jack to get up, so he continued to lie there.

"Uh, Jack? Are they treating you ok?"

"No, honored guest," he replied.

"A mayra is rarely pleased to begin his service," Keyna pointed out.

"Are they drugging you?"

"No, honored guest." That sounded almost wistful, as if he wished they would. Knowing that Jack had been adamantly opposed to drugs after being forcibly addicted in a long past interrogation attempt, Daniel knew this was a sign of how bad things were here.

"Let this be enough of conversation with a slave," the Baron commented, clearly bored. His eyes flicked to Daniel, who had looked anxious, then he turned to Keyna. "Have dinner with us, my friend Keyna. Afterward, our honored guest can show us his wares. Perhaps you can trade the mayra for some of them." He spread his arms to include everyone. "For now, let us enjoy the fine day and one another's company."

The conversation turned to other things. Jack remained where he was, flat out on the ground, ignored. When he was underfoot of a messenger sent to the Baron, Keyna ordered him up and he returned to his kneeling position.

Daniel marveled at how still the usually fidgety Jack was. Motionless, he was nonetheless extremely alert, and Daniel had the fleeting impression of him as a gun awaiting the feather touch of a finger to leap into explosive action. It made Daniel a bit nervous, as if he was missing signs of serious danger that his friend saw.

The conversation went on, mostly just small talk and questions about each other's cities.

Two boys approached, stopping a few yards away. They were perhaps seven or eight years old, with hopeful expressions on their faces. Keyna motioned them closer with a fond smile.

"Can we play with him?" They indicated Jack, who knelt there and ignored them.

"Play with Zimmo."

"Zimmo's no fun. He whimpers all the time."

"Play with old Nedamo."

"We have Nedamo. We need another one; we want to make them fight!" One spoke, but both looked eagerly at the handler.

Jack tensed. He knew the children were allowed to use the Mayra in dogfights, but so for he hadn't been chosen due to his trainee status. If he didn't follow orders and beat the crap out of old Nedamo, then Keyna would punish Jack severely. Nedamo was frail and his hands trembled like a very old man's, though his bald head and lightly lined face made it hard to guess his true age. Would anyone believe it if Jack threw the fight? If they didn't, he would be punished and made to repeat the ordeal to Keyna's satisfaction. On the other hand, if he was merciful and took out Nedamo with one strike, the lads would just match Jack with other mayree. He began to see why Zimmo lay down and whimpered all the time. The boys rarely wanted to play with him. Maybe he could just lie down and whimper like Zimmo so the boys wouldn't want to play with him either.

Keyna saw the Mayra tense and misread the cause. He believed this slave liked to fight, but he had not so far earned any kind of reward, so it would not be allowed.

"You can play with him, but no dog fights."

"Awww..."

"I promise, when he is trained, you can fight him."

"If he's not fully trained, maybe he should stay here with us," Daniel suggested.

The boy's face fell even further.

"The Mayra wouldn't dare to harm a child!" Keyna was shocked. "Would you, Mayra?"

"No, Keyna!" His voice held urgency this time; Keyna had punished him cruelly enough for tiny things like breathing loudly, he didn't even want to *think* about what would happen if Keyna thought he'd hurt a child of the ruling class.

"You can play with him until dinner time. But no dogfights."

"Can we play Hunter?"

Keyna smiled fondly and agreed.

"All right!" The boys scampered off.

"Mayra, go. And obey."

Jack rose and trotted off after the children.

Keyna waved a hand, and a new mayra appeared at his elbow, one of the biggest men Daniel had ever seen. His eyes on Daniel, Keyna gave his orders. "The boys have gone off to play with the new mayra. Take a weapon from the armory and watch them, but do not allow yourself to be seen. If the mayra makes any attempt to harm the children, shoot him."

The mayra saluted before trotting off.

Daniel objected to the idea, of course, then tried to be more conciliatory since he wasn't yet in a position to force the issue. "Wouldn't it just be easier to keep him here if he's not fully trained?"

"What is there to worry about?" Keyna asked suspiciously. He stared at Daniel, daring him to respond. "Your own concern prompted my order."

"It was just a general comment since you agreed he was not yet fully trained," Daniel assured them. "I have never known him to hurt a child." Beyond Keyna, he saw Jack appear, running flat out toward some bushes. Was he trying to escape? He kept talking, quickly, to distract his hosts from noticing the flight. "We, uh, we usually use our mayree just for work. Do you use yours for entertainment just for the kids? Or what else do you have them do?"

A shot rang out just as Jack made the bushes. Daniel started, half rising and desperately thinking what to say. Keyna and Honna turned to look, seeing the boy come past a tree holding a gun. Jack raced out from his cover behind the bushes and toward some rocks, and the boy fired again. The boy called, and Jack trotted back to him, taking the weapon and reloading it, then rushing for some trees. Honna and Keyna smiled, and settled back into their seats, ignoring the play. Daniel kept watching over his hosts' shoulders as Jack moved again, but his latest position exposed his flank. The boy shot a fourth time, and Jack jerked as if injured, falling to the ground and writhing as if in pain. It was quite a good impression; Daniel would have to remember to tease Jack later about a second career as an actor. Jack rolled to his knees, letting the boy mount him before pushing to his feet and jogging off.

~oOo~

Teal'c and Carter wandered through the shops, making a show of admiring wares, and offering mood rings to people they met. Most of the recipients gave something in exchange, and soon the pair's pockets were filled with odds and ends, and their clothes dotted with trinkets of jewelry. There was a definite joie de vive about the city, as if each person was intent on living in the moment and enjoying every experience. They laughed, they sang, and they argued with equal intensity. Of their visitors, they noticed every detail; the texture of their clothes, the tones of their voices, the way they handled objects. At first, Carter found it exhilarating. Touch this! Smell and taste that! See and hear everything! It would have been easy to be drawn in to it, but something held her back.

When she found herself humming 'party like its 1999,' she realized what it was. There was an urgent, almost frenetic, air to the place, as if time was running out and they were madly trying to do everything before the end. Which, in a way, they were. These people had a limited time before they had to re-enlist, and their second entry into service could end only with death or enslavement. No wonder they threw themselves into everything while they could.

They continued to wander the city, stopping frequently, especially at shops that seemed to have a lot of workers in hopes of finding their missing friend among them. There was no sign of Jack, though they maneuvered to see any servant behind the tables or working in dim buildings.

Carter was playing with a child's toy, watching the tiny gears and levers move to twirl bits of bright colored cloth in pretty patterns. She commented on the delicate handiwork and smooth operation.

The shop keeper smiled. "It is a charming toy! Your children will love it. You can also attach bells," she followed word with deed and attached miniature bells to evenly spaced spots, "and it will play a melody. It keeps my little Arna asleep all night."

"All night? It doesn't stop?"

"It stops when you stop it. I suppose if you left it going long enough, it would eventually quit on its own, but I've never tried." She chuckled. "By dawn, I've heard enough chiming bells!"

"That's amazing," Carter bent closer. The tiny golden spokes had intricate carving on them. "How much do you want for it?" More than just being pretty, it was intriguing as a tiny perpetual-motion machine and she wanted to understand how it kept moving so long after just a push of a finger to start. It wasn't technically on their shopping list, but then nothing was, except for the Colonel, of course.

The shop keeper beamed. "How about a dozen of your magic rings?" Carter readily agreed, and the shopkeeper talked business as she packaged the toy, offering a better deal if they were purchased in quantity, and noting other color combinations.

~oOo~

A short while later they reappeared in the distance, with the boy still riding Jack's shoulders. Daniel suppressed a smile at the sight. This was the best part of the tedious afternoon.

Another boy approached, atop a bald man. Nedamo, presumably. The boys played soldier, swinging at each other with wooden toy swords. Daniel openly smiled at the picture. Boy, when they got home.-

~oOo~

The couple turned gratefully away from a seller whose wares were incredibly garish homemade scarves. Teal'c had thoughtfully bought his dear wife a bag full so that she would not have to decide on only one. She was peering into the sack as they stepped away, ostensibly still unable to choose which to wear at the moment, but really just amazed at the gaudy colors. Her thoughts were disrupted by a commotion ahead.

Carter started to run toward a woman viciously beating a slave. Teal'c caught her arm, allowing her to proceed but at a more decorous pace. He murmured something in her ear, but she didn't quite catch it.

"May we be of assistance?" Teal'c asked mildly, stepping close enough to the woman that his bulk made her notice him despite her anger.

The woman took a deep breath, about to retort something, then seemed to realize who they were. She took another deep breath. "You are the visitors from the mountain!" She bobbed her head.

"Yes, we are," Teal'c confirmed.

Carter knew he was trying to keep things calm and just distract the woman, but she couldn't let it go. "May I ask what he did?" She waved at the slave, who was still cowering before his mistress.

The woman glared down, and the slave cringed. The action only made her angrier. "Get away!" she hissed. "You embarrass me!" The slave scrabbled away, crouched over with his arms raised around his head. As he scurried indoors, she added, "When you were my father, you would not think of such cowardice!"

Carter was stunned. She vaguely felt Teal'c's hand on her arm, but wasn't quite sure if he had pulled on her or if she had instinctively tried to act and he was holding her back. Her father!

"That slave was your father?" Teal'c kept his calm tone, as if he were asking about the weather.

The woman lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that, honored guests. He is a disgrace!" That sentence was louder, no doubt to ensure the man inside could hear. She sighed, seeming to deflate. "I am probably too hard on him," she admitted, "but it is just so bitter to have my father back like this. In some ways, he is like enough to his old self that it reminds me constantly of who he was. In most ways, he is so different; it despoils my memory of him." She was sad now, almost tearful as she remembered her father in younger days.

"Perhaps with time, he will one day be again what he used to," Teal'c said supportively.

The woman scoffed. "No one ever recovers from being a Mayree. They are broken too quickly and too thoroughly." She saw his expression flicker, and added, "It's for the best, really. Few are recovered, and if one is to be a slave for life, it would be needless cruelty to drag out the transformation."

"Why do you not sell him to another, so that you need not see him? Or euthanize him?"

"It is foolish, is it not?" She tried to laugh. "I feel some sort of loyalty, and I can't bring myself to sell my own father. The gods are laughing at us both, giving him long life to extend our mutual pain. Most slaves last a year or two. He has lived three years already!" She glared in the direction he had disappeared, as if he were living on just to spite her. "I have almost euthanized him. Several times. But then he looks me in the eye and I just can't do it."

She took a deep breath. "Let us talk of happier things, honored guests. It is said that you have no war in the mountains, and are never cursed with seeing a loved one who is himself and yet not himself. May that blessing continue," she made a sign with her hands, then pasted a smile on her face and turned the topic to her wares.

She said more, but Carter didn't hear it. Her thoughts were on her own father. *A loved one who is himself and yet not himself.* She knew exactly what that was like. Blending with Selmak had made Jacob Carter more flexible and understanding, and they'd had emotional father-daughter conversations that never would have happened otherwise. She appreciated that, but still sometimes she had to wonder if it was really her father talking or Selmak. If the pre-Tok'Ra Jacob Carter never would have said something, did it count as really him doing it after being blended? A heart-to-heart talk with a close friend – and there could be none closer than the Tok'Ra one was blended with – might have made him open up to his daughter. But would that also explain his new acceptance of the casualties of war? He was not cavalier about the loss of life, and never would be, but he was also far less likely to take risks to get a lone man home than he used to be, and more likely to send someone on a suicide mission if the results were valuable.

She was still musing about her father and how he, too, was himself and not himself, when Teal'c took her arm again and led her off to visit the next merchant.

~oOo~

As Daniel watched Jack with the other mayra and the boys, a third mayra appeared, carrying something on some errand or other. The boys, atop their steeds, gave chase. They ran about until the hapless Mayra was cornered. Bisa looped his belt around the man's neck and they led him toward something that looked like a large wishing well.

Poda, the boy riding Jack, took something from the well and swung it. Jack jumped, moving his rider's hand out of range of the other mayra. Poda cuffed Jack, and raised the object again. This time Jack stood still as Poda touched the other slave with the object. That one fell to the ground and covered his face – was that Zimmo, the one who whimpered all the time? Poda moved the object slowly and deliberately toward Jack's chest. Jack didn't move. The boy appeared to draw on him, then tossed the object back into the well.

The other boy, Bisa, slid off Nedamo and jumped atop Zimmo or whomever the slave on the ground was. The boys took off, apparently racing. They passed out of Daniel's view.

~oOo~

Teal'c was surprised at the practice of keeping recovered relatives as slaves; even in his extensive travels as Apophis' First Prime he had never seen that. The occasional individual, perhaps, when it was a personal matter between the master and slave. Here it was commonplace; if a slave bore a resemblance to the master, he or she was usually a relative. Not all were treated as violently as the first. There seemed to be a range of attitudes, with some at the other end of the spectrum treated almost like pets.

The city was laid out like a spider web, semi-concentric rings of buildings with roads between and also leading diagonally out from the center. After a few loops through merchant shops, they took one of the angular roads toward the outskirts. There was more space here, and sellers that needed space or had less attractive wares. Eventually, they found a slave merchant. Teal'c assumed it was the first of many, probably one of the more successful ones if it was nearest the prestigious city center.

They approached, and the slaves silently arrayed themselves as they'd no doubt been trained. The larger men stood erect, shoulders back, showing off the muscle power they had to offer. Attractive women and men posed more seductively in case the shoppers were interested in a personal servant. Others used small tools, probably intended to demonstrate skills a new owner might find useful. One played music softly. Those that had no obvious selling point lined the back wall, dressed to provide a rainbow backdrop.

A curly-haired man came forward with a wide smile. "You are our honored guests from the mountains! News travels fast, my new friends, especially when it is as wondrous as the re-emergence of the mountain city! I am Calla," he swept his hands toward himself.

"I am Teal'c, and this is my lady wife, Samantha." He copied Calla's gesture.

Calla beamed. "Please, my friends, allow me to offer you hospitality." He waved a hand with a complex twist of his fingers, and three slaves quickly approached. A beautiful woman slipped her arm around Teal'c's, leading him gently toward a stool at the front of Calla's shop, and draping herself prettily at his feet. Carter, meanwhile, was escorted by a handsome man who dropped to one knee and held a pose clearly intended to show off his physique. Another pair appeared, copper-haired instead of blonde like the first, carrying plates of refreshments. They set them on the guests' laps, and slipped sinuously down next to their counterparts. "These are but samples of the beauty I can provide for you," Calla waved at the four slaves. "I have many others as well." He smiled enticingly. "Just tell me what you like, or feel free to browse."

"Uh," Carter began, nonplussed at having two very handsome, scantily dressed men at her feet.

Teal'c wasn't about to let the chance pass. "I do have something specific in mind," he said mildly.

"Just ask, my good friend!" Calla beamed, the dollar signs all but chiming in his eyes.

"I am looking for a male slave, with silver hair."

Calla didn't miss a beat. "Of course. An excellent idea! Have you any other parameters?" His guest didn't answer immediately, and he gave his own meaning to the pause. "Do not be shy." He leaned over and squeezed Teal'c's knee. "We are all close friends here. Would you like him to be willing, or would you prefer the challenge of domination?"

"The silver-haired coloration was said to be rare," Teal'c responded, ignoring the question. "Do you have many?"

Calla jumped right on that. "The coloring is indeed rare, my companion. Everyone will know yours is a top value slave. Most dealers would be unable to fill your desire, but I," he lowered his eyes modestly, "am not most dealers." He looked up. "I have three to offer you." A slave appeared at his elbow, and he turned his attention that way. "Yina, go to my compound, and tell the quartermaster to prepare Giramo, Keppamo, and the newest mayra for display. We will show our guests not one but three silver males."

The slave ran off on his errand.

"Giramo and Keppamo will be willing bedmates for either or both of you tonight," Calla said with a smile. "The other is fresh catch, so new that he has not even earned a name yet. Sure to provide excitement if you have a taste for domination." Calla winked. "If you like his look, but do not care to break him, I would be happy to handle that service for you and deliver him in a day or two, with guaranteed total obedience."

"A day or two from fresh catch to total obedience?" Carter couldn't hide her surprise.

"Enough use of a pain stick will do that," Teal'c commented, not entirely hiding his disgust at the thought. He turned to Calla. "My lady wife has not seen slave training. Please do not take her surprise as doubt in your abilities." He had no with to make this man prove himself by trying to break O'Neill overnight.

"Of course, of course. Slave training is mainly man's work," Calla agreed. "What is this pain stick you mentioned?"

Having already let the name slip, Teal'c answered the question. "It is a device that causes great pain but not bodily injury."

Calla was impressed. "Did you bring any of those with you? I should like to see that. If it is as you say, perhaps we can trade. The slave for the stick. Training will be much faster if there is no need to stop for healing."

"I did not bring a pain stick since my mission here in your city is diplomatic," Teal'c told him. "However, if you provide a silver male that pleases me, I can have one brought immediately. You will not be disappointed."

Calla smiled with anticipation.

Teal'c politely asked what tools Calla used to train his slaves.

Calla seemed shocked at the question, then grinned conspiratorially. "Handler's methods are their best kept secrets, are they not? But let us make an exception for one another, my dear, dear friend. I shall tell all if you will, and we shall both agree never to tell another soul."

Teal'c considered. He wanted to keep this man's interest, to use him to find O'Neill. He had asked the question to learn how slaves were controlled here, the better to free his friend. But if slave traders each kept their own secrets, this one would only know the key to O'Neill's restraint if he was indeed O'Neill's current owner. He decided to balance his answer. "In my position, the slaves sent before me are already well trained."

Calla was disappointed, but not surprised.

Teal'c gave him a thin smile. No sense missing an opportunity to send a warning in case he was ever in the position to force information from Calla. "However, I do have experience in extracting information from individuals unwilling to share what they know," Calla's eyes widened. Teal'c drew on his long experience as Apophis' First Prime to offer a couple of dramatic examples. He knew that he sounded calm and matter of fact, though inside he seethed. That was not the person he was anymore, and he despised the pretense. It had the desired effect, though; Calla was enthralled, and eager to learn more. Time to clinch the deal.

"I am but an amateur at these affairs," Teal'c put his hand on his chest as he had seen others do to indicate modesty. "but in my position, I can see that one of our professionals shares his secrets with you."

Calla was practically salivating. If this visitor considered himself an amateur, even after the examples he gave, the professionals must have stunning techniques. The conversation moved politely on to other topics, but when his servant returned, Calla was the first to jump up to go. He almost skipped down the road to his compound. They were seated, on plump cushions positioned on a high dais this time, and fresh drinks were brought. Calla waved expansively, and the first slave entered.

He was muscular, and swarthy, and the metallic silver of his long wavy hair was obviously artificial. He moved with surprising grace, sinuously twining about in front of them, showing off his body before he dropped into a final pose before them.

"This is Giramo, my beloved friends," Calla told them happily. "Isn't he marvelous?"

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed politely. "However, he is not quite what I had in mind. May I see the next?"

"Of course," Calla easily hid his reaction. He was probably used to finicky customers. With a wave of his hand, a curtain parted and another man entered. "Keppamo!"

This one was very young, and slender, with pale skin. Everything about him gave the impression of vulnerability, and his entrance played up that aspect. He knelt before them in a tentative and endearing pose. His hair, too, had been painted the metallic silver, even to the eyelashes, which flashed in the light as he demurely lowered them.

Calla looked to Teal'c.

"Charming, my friend Calla, but too young for my tastes." Teal'c kept the emotion out of his voice, but allowed himself a brief daydream of using the painstick on Calla. He did not fail to notice the boy's poorly-hidden relief at not being chosen.

"Never fear! For my best friend," Calla reassured. "I have one more to offer you. No one else has as much stock as Calla!" He waved his hand and the curtains parted again.

Three men entered this time, two huge ones framing a smaller but still good sized one. This was the "fresh catch," and he fought back as he was led in and turned in a circle before his prospective buyers.

Teal'c was not fooled for a moment. The man's bruises were artfully placed to show off his muscles, and one on his left cheek gave him a rakish look. There were no harsher marks to speak of the fierce resistance one would expect of a newly captured warrior. And while he appeared to struggle with his handlers, his efforts resulted in a series of poses that showed off his physique. This was a performance, nothing more, though he did sympathize that the man suffered for his art; the bruises were real enough, and had to have been there before this afternoon to have such color. He speculated that this man usually served as a rental for pleasure, and spent many evenings being 'tamed' or 'subdued' for sport. He did not blame Calla; it made more sense to pass off a talented rental as fresh than to risk a truly fresh catch displeasing an important buyer.

He could not refuse all three out of hand. It was time to take a calculated risk. Teal'c stood and advanced to stand in front of the man, who was now being held in a kneeling position by his handlers. "I will look upon his face. If he has brown eyes, I will take him."

Calla looked uncertain now; he had probably never looked into the eyes of his slaves before and did not know if he would suit or not. "You allow mayra to look directly at you? You are too kind, my dear friend, too kind. He will be fortunate if you choose him."

The handlers pulled the man to his feet, and he resisted as elegantly as before. He ended with them holding his head, his left cheek half-turned toward Teal'c at an angle, yet another handsome pose with his chiseled features as he feigned defiance of his potential new master. His eyes were not blue, as Teal'c had expected. But they were not brown, either. They were green.

The slave gave it one more try. "You cannot master me!" he growled. His handlers promptly twisted his arms sharply behind, and for real, Teal'c could see the sinews standing out from the strain. Even in pain, he kept to the act, gasping dramatically but not breaking eye contact, showing himself off till the end.

Teal'c made no response to him, the man was a slave after all, and had already been disciplined. He returned to his seat. "He is interesting, I grant you," he told Calla, earning a smile. "I am tempted, but still I wish a slave with silver hair and brown eyes. Once I set my mind, I am determined to get what I want."

Calla's smile faltered for a moment.

"I am a businessman, Calla, and I shall make you an offer. Find me a silver male I desire, with brown eyes, and perhaps near my height," he glanced at the young slave, "and of a more mature age than that one, and I shall reward you by making you the only mayree dealer in this city with pain sticks."

Calla was delighted. "Of course, my dear, dear friend! I shall scour the city, and you shall have him! You can count on Calla!"

"I am sure, my friend," Teal'c agreed. He was, too. Sure the man would do the legwork for him, checking the other dealers for silver hair and brown eyes. And with such a reward, he was likely to buy every possible man instead of killing off the competition. "We will go now, and leave you to the search. Baron Honna is awaiting us for dinner."

"Of course, of course. I shall send Giramo to you with a message when I have others like him to offer." Giramo half-rose and bowed to indicate which one he was, showing off his muscular shoulders and back in the process. "In the meantime, may I send you one of these for tonight? Without charge, of course." Giramo and Keppamo changed poses to show off, and the third one gave a little struggle.

Teal'c considered. "I do not like to be kept waiting, Calla. If you have no new choices by tomorrow night, send this one to me," he indicated the un-named fresh catch, who pretended to object.

"Of course, dear friend! I sense that he appeals to you. Perhaps you will wish a pair of new silver slaves," Calla smiled warmly.

"Perhaps," Teal'c agreed. "For now, have a joyous day, my new friend." He inclined his head, and left with Carter.

Outside, Carter teased, "You laughed at me when I bought a *toy.*"

"Oh, he may turn out to be much more than a toy, my wife."

She glanced up at him. "You have a plan, don't you?"

He gave her a half-smile, and did not answer.

~oOo~

Daniel saw the boys running back and forth on their mounts in the distance. After a few rounds, they moved off under a tree. Daniel was pleased that Jack would get a rest break. Oddly, Jack didn't rest; he climbed the tree. Was he enjoying playing with the children? Daniel squinted as Jack dropped out of the tree with a pair of branches in hand. There was a bit of red and white on Jack's chest, visible even against the black jumpsuit. Had the kids decorated him at the wishing well? Jack handed the sticks to the boys, who were apparently not satisfied. Jack climbed the tree again, returning with more branches.

The boys remounted and the race resumed. They were soon out of sight again. When they raced back into sight, Zimmo was ahead and Jack's little rider was swinging his branch enthusiastically to show that he wanted to catch up. Jack, perhaps tired from his earlier efforts, or maybe just not as fast as the other man, kept running but did not pass.

~oOo~

"You are quiet, my wife," Teal'c commented softly as they walked back toward the center of the city, on the way to rejoin Daniel and Baron Honna.

Carter sighed. "I'm… confused, I guess. I *like* these people, and I hate them, too. They seem so nice when you talk to them. So normal. But they keep slaves, and sometimes they treat them like…" she trailed off, unable to put it into words.

"What you are feeling is common," he assured her. "No society is perfectly evil, just as none is perfectly good. I myself have felt the same conflicting feelings many times." He glanced away, remembering past times and places. Still, he should speak to the rest of her thought.

"As for slavery, it is often the way for people to ease their conscience by considering slaves less than human. That I have seen, many times. But never have I seen a people that continue to enslave their own family members."

"So you feel the same way about these people?"

He considered before answering. "I find more to dislike than to like on this planet, but I cannot say I hate everything here."

~oOo~

Daniel's smile faded as Jack passed by. He was bleeding from a myriad of scratches and welts on his left side, easily visible through the tears in his thin jumpsuit. The boy had not been pretending to hit him with that branch-whip, he had really scored the man's side.

Keyna followed his glance and called out to Poda to clean the Mayra before returning him. The boys, still riding, turned the Mayree to acknowledge. Daniel gasped as he saw the damage on both mayree. The colonel looked back at him with a hollow gaze then trotted doggedly off on command.

"He's hurt! He needs medical care!" Daniel exclaimed, trying to call the boys back.

Honna pulled him back to his seat with a hand on his arm. "Keyna told the children to clean him up, and I'm sure they will."

"He doesn't need a bath, he needs a doctor!"

"A what?"

"A, a doctor! Someone to heal him!"

All four of them looked at each other in confusion. They didn't understand what Daniel wanted, and he couldn't believe they didn't think such injuries warranted immediate help.

It was Quinna who realized the issue first. "Honored guest," she put her hand on his other arm so that she and her husband were all but holding Daniel to his seat. "the slave will be fully restored. We have healing herbs that will make it so before dinner time. You will see for yourself, I promise you." Turning slightly to her husband to explain her idea to him, she continued, "Is it possible that the mountain city no longer has the healing herbs?"

"You, you can fix *that* by dinner time?" Daniel was still staring off after Jack. He was in shock, both at the injuries and that he had been cheerfully watching as they were inflicted.

Honna's expression flickered. "Yes, friend," he confirmed. "We can fix that, and much worse, by dinner time. It seems we have found something to trade for your magical mood-sensing rings!" He smiled expansively. "Would you like to see other types of injuries healed? I would be happy to arrange whatever you wish."

*Arrange to show me how you will heal yourself when I use this siege weapon on your head,* Daniel thought bitterly. Aloud, he said, "Let's start with this one for now."

"Of course, my friend," Honna agreed smoothly. "For now, let us welcome the return of our friends Teal'c and Samantha." He turned to welcome them.

Daniel saw their suspicion at him being already on his feet and half-restrained by his hosts. He did nothing to allay their concern.

Honna had barely finished welcoming them back when Keyna's other slave, the huge one sent off with a weapon to watch over Jack's play, returned to report that he had not had to use his weapon on the other mayra.

Keyna nodded. He knew that already anyway, having just seen the mayra walk away. "Did Poda order him to fight?" There was a crafty light in Keyna's eye; he knew full well how hard it would be for young boys to resist temptation.

"Yes, Master."

Keyna could barely resist a grin. "What did the mayra do?" He had him, one way or the other. The mayra must have disobeyed either Keyna's order not to fight or the child's order to fight and therefore must have earned punishment. He needed only to know which.

"The mayra waited for his opponent to initiate an attack, then tickled him under the arms. Zimmo jerked his arms down, then tripped and fell to the ground. Zimmo wept, and did not rise."

Keyna's jaw dropped, then his mouth firmed with anger. The mayra *tickled* the other? Adult mayree did not tickle each other. Adult *anything* did not tickle each other, and he could hardly call it fighting. Why hadn't Poda matched him with Nedamo, as he'd originally suggested? Nedamo would have made some kind of attempt, even if it were flimsy, and Keyna would not have lost this opportunity.

"Mayra, describe the condition of the other mayra," Baron Honna ordered. He turned to his guests. "The better to measure the effect of the healing herbs."

Keyna may have signaled the man to obey, or perhaps he knew enough to answer the Baron at all times. "A scatter shot of salt pellets in the right flank, from shoulder to hip," he recited. "Burns from a torch on his chest. Flaying on both arms and the front of the torso. Minor cuts around the neck. That is all that I saw, Master."

All three of the guests stared.

"You will see," the Baron said cheerfully. "He will return soon, good as new."

"Can we watch the healing?" Daniel asked.

Keyna was quick to respond. "It is no doubt already underway, honored ones. See the results of this, and see another healing from start to finish." He turned to Teal'c and Carter. "The Baron has already offered to demonstrate the healing of the injuries of your choice."

They didn't want to wait; it seemed that Keyna was trying to hide something about the healing from them, but they didn't have a good reason to object.

oOo

Jack returned an hour later, clean and miraculously undamaged. He dropped tiredly to the ground beside Keyna. Easy enough now to keep his eyes downcast.

Keyna ordered him back to his feet. "Remove your clothing,Mayra."

Jack didn't hesitate. He slipped his top over his head, then fumbled just a bit over the fastening of his pants.

"This is sufficient," Teal'c pronounced. "There is no need to display the remainder of his skin."

Jack kept working on the fastener until Keyna himself told him to stop. He stood there, shirtless, eyes on the ground. Keyna told him to raise his arms and turn slowly to show his body to the visitors.

"You see?" the Baron asked. "All that you saw before is gone. Such is the power of our healing herbs."

"Of course, the salt shot is meant to cause pain more than serious injury. Would you like to see wounds from live ammunition healed?"

Jack limited his reaction to the thought of being shot just for the sake of healing. He half closed his eyes in resignation but suppressed a sigh or a shudder. There were worse things, after all.

Teal'c asked how often battles were waged with the nearby enemy city-state, as true injuries were the best examples. That re-directed the conversation to war and politics. After a while, Keyna waved Jack back to the ground next to him, but other than that he was ignored.

oOo

Carter had been observing Jack as closely as she could while schmoozing with Keyna, so the colonel's slight twitch made her look around. Work parties had been returning from the fields for at least an hour, creating a solid wall of kicked-up dust along the roadway. One man was emerging from the haze and heading in their direction. Carter watched for a moment, wondering what had caught Jack's attention. Nothing seemed different about this man, other than the fact that he was coming their way. He was kicking up a hearty share of dust on the way, and she covered her open cup to shield it.

Keyna noticed his guest's distraction, and followed her gaze. "Ah, Blenna. Coming to give a greeting and hock for a sale, no doubt."

"You don't approve of him or his wares?" Daniel asked carefully.

None of them could care less what the man would try to sell them, all that mattered was whether the sale – or lack of one – would encourage Keyna's good will.

"Oh, no, Honored Guest. Blenna is a friend. I know him well, well enough to guess his intention and have a chuckle at them. His wares, as you call them, are solid. Not top of the line, but a value for the price. You would do well to choose him as one of your trading partners. Also, I should tell you that he is the likely new owner of this mayra."

Blenna drew nearer, and the cloud of dust billowing up to his knees was explained by the appearance of half a dozen gamboling…. Somethings. They ran over to Jack, leaping and climbing all over him. In good mayra-style, Jack made no move at all, but there was the tiniest ghost of a smile on his face. Satisfied that Jack was safe and not bothered, Daniel turned his attention to the requisite introductions.

Blenna noticed the Honored Guest's glance at the mayra and the animals, and snapped a single syllable. All the animals – there were eight, not six – returned to Blenna and stood at his feet. Now still, they turned their attention to the moist red strips still lying on the ground near the Baron's feet, sniffing in that direction and licking their lips. "You see how well they are trained already?" Blenna pointed out, showing off his wares. "They come, and hold, despite temptation."

Honna chuckled and waved a hand at the tongues.

Blenna inclined his head. "You are too kind, my liege." He flicked one hand, and the animals pounced.

Carter watched as the rahi scrabbled for the strips of meat, idly wondering why anyone would have meat laying on the ground in the first place. If that were some odd way of preparing dinner, she was glad to see it go to the, well, whatever those were. Most of the beasts played tug-of-war with each other as they tried to chew opposite ends. The biggest one got a piece to himself, and turned his head away from the others, facing the guests with his prize hanging out of the front of his mouth.

Carter turned to Daniel, who was suddenly gagging beside her. The man looked positively green, and she wondered if Honna's true motive in sending her and Teal'c off had been to poison Daniel. Would he hold the antidote for ransom? Daniel waved her off, muttering that he was ok. Later, he would explain what the strips of meat really were, and how seeing the animal with a person's tongue lolling from its mouth had been just too disgusting to watch.

The animals made short work of the tongues, and Blenna called them back to him. "And notice their silence? I gave the command as we approached, and they have not disobeyed in all this time."

Carter wondered what sort of horrid noise the little beasts made, if silence was such a virtue. "I haven't seen animals like this before. What do you use them for?" Blenna and Keyna shared a brief look, and she could practically hear the cash register sound ringing in their minds.

Blenna smiled widely. "They are many things, Honored Guest. Excellent hunters, your customers will appreciate that they are made for the task. See the hide?" He knelt, pointing at the largest one but not touching it. "Hard as armor, a good defense if their prey puts up a fight." He went on to describe their eyes, ears, paws, and tails and the advantages of each for a hunting companion. "They also make good guard beasts."

When Blenna finally paused to take a breath, Daniel had to say that he was not a merchant of animals.

Not to be deterred, Blenna pointed out that they could also be eaten. "Survival of the fittest," he laughed. If the animal can't bring home dinner, he can *be* dinner. The best hunters survive and reproduce, improving the breed. "Let us try one, and you can see for yourself the succulence of the meat. And the efficiency, even the smallest of these will feed us seven." He scooped up one of the litter, clearly pleased that he had just invited himself to dinner with the first out of town guests in centuries.

Daniel took a quick glance at Jack to get some idea of whether this was a good or bad idea. To a stranger, the colonel probably looked the same as always. To an old friend, Jack was despairing, as if something important was being taken from him and he dare not object. It was a look Daniel would not soon forget.

"Mayra!" Blenna snapped.

Jack swallowed, as if steeling himself for something terrible, but otherwise did not react.

"Mayra, take this beast to the kitchens, and tell them to prepare it quickly!"

Jack still did not react.

It was Keyna's turn to chuckle. "You are not the only good trainer here, my friend. I ordered *my* beast down, and he will not respond to another until I give him leave. Mayra, take that beast from Blenna." He was grinning at Blenna, and didn't notice the guests' scowls at the use of the same term for man and animal.

Jack rose, a steely blankness on his face that spoke volumes to his friends. Jack really, really did not want to do this.

Daniel interrupted. "Wait. I think my, uh, Sam, likes the little guy." He gestured Sam toward the creature.

Carter took the cue, and the creature. It was cool to the touch and sported a layer of fetid slime, a feature that Blenna had not mentioned in his sales pitch. The little animal snuggled up against her, sliding its muzzle along her neck. She shuddered at the clammy touch. The whole effect was like being handed twenty pounds of lukewarm poop.

"Women and animals," Daniel shrugged. "No telling what they'll find cuddly."

Taking that cue as well, though it was hard to imagine how the creature could possibly be any *less* cuddly, Sam tilted her head toward it and petted its back, trying to look enamored and also keep her hair away from the scummy goo.

"Warm," a tiny voice sighed in her ear.

She stiffened. Had the animal spoken? In English? "Are… are you cold?" she asked the little beast.

"Cold. Want warm." It snuggled closer.

Jack coughed, and they all glanced at him. As he put his hand down from covering his mouth, he twisted his fingers in the sign for silence.

Ok, she couldn't ask about the talking, but now she really did want the creature, smell and slime and all. She curved her arms around it further, so that more of its cold blooded body was in contact with her warm blooded one, and was rewarded with its contented sigh. "Does she have a name?" She smiled at the men.

Blenna clapped Teal'c on the shoulder. "And so you have yourself a beast. May it be the first of many." He turned back to Carter, beaming at her. "It is a male, and as handsome a specimen of his species as you are of yours."

A tiny voice whispered in her ear. "His name is Gonzalez," Carter said, smiling wider at the intriguing animal and wishing she could tell Daniel and Teal'c it talked. She whispered something into Gonzalez' big round ear and he snuggled in her arms.

Teal'c, too, had noticed Jack's reaction. He took the opportunity now to prevent a recurrence. "My wife is enamored of the creature," he looked fondly at her for effect, then turned to Blenna. "I thank you for your generous offer, Blenna, but I prefer not to eat any of these creatures."

At once, there was a commotion among the beasts, they shrieked and milled about. The sound was horrendous, high-pitched baby screams like many fingernails on a chalkboard.

Keyna, Daniel, and Teal'c crunched up their faces and tried not to cringe. Honna and Quinna had less reason to be polite, and clapped their hands over their ears. Carter held Gonzalez defensively, turning so her body was protectively between him and his former master, and promising him no one would eat him. Blenna was beside himself, trying to control the little mob. Tarmo had been dutifully waiting in sight but out of earshot, and scurried over to help.

"Tarmo, take them away! Quickly!" Blenna pushed the beasts at his slave as fast as he could. Tarmo held five clumsily in his arms, shooing the other two with his feet, and shuffled off as best he could.

As the din subsided, Blenna apologized profusely. He did not know what had set them off.

"Isn't it obvious?" Carter asked, one hand pressed over Gonzalez' ear as if to protect it from hearing her next words. "They were afraid of being eaten! How can you even think of doing that?"

Blenna's eyes widened incredulously. "They can't understand us!" He recovered himself quickly, adding, "Though we can all see how you would like to believe that, can't we?" He looked to the others for support, getting an encouraging nod from Keyna. Continuing the effort to unite the group in his favor, he continued. "It is admirable how quickly our new friends become loyal to the pet, is it not, My Lord? Shall we talk more of this over dinner, in hopes we shall all earn each others' loyalty with equal speed?"

Jack understood what had happened, even if Blenna didn't, and it could be the reason that animals were so rare on Goa'uld controlled planets. The poor things had screamed in horror when Teal'c inadvertently told them that their trusted master had offered them as food -- Jack couldn't blame them, he would probably react the same way if Hammond casually offered to serve up one of his team – so food animals would be a non-starter on the alien planets. Carter's expression was a comical match to Gonzalez's ongoing glare at Blenna, so even if some people were ruthless enough to eat animals that could beg for their lives, others like her would defend them. Even working animals would want a say in how they were bred and used. Living with sentient, talking animals would be totally different than anything they'd experienced before.

Daniel, trying to take advantage of the potential opportunity, at first objected to allowing a person who caused such a disturbance to remain in their high company. He said he would change his mind if he were given Jack as a gift to make up for the offense. Baron Honna declared that that could not be, since the mayra was only Blenna's on a trial basis and if the sale did not go through, then Keyna would be the one paying for Blenna's offense. Instead, Blenna was ordered to give up an animal he did own – Gonzalez – for free.

Blenna offered to give Carter pointers on caring for her new pet, hoping to ingratiate himself, but Gonzalez, who a short while ago had hung calmly in Blenna's arms, now bared his fangs at the man whenever he got close.

oOo

They moved into the Baron's Great Hall. The conversation was somewhat awkward, and Daniel was glad when dinner arrived. The first course was a simple plate of fruit and cheese, served by several young women, all red headed. Jack knelt and held Keyna's plate and cup for him.

The meal dragged on, with Keyna making Jack serve him hand and foot. He seemed to be deliberately trying to belittle the man. This one, Keyna explained, had some pride that he was better rid of in order to be a good mayra. It also made for plentiful opportunities to reinforce to the novice mayra exactly who was in charge, which was a key facet of his training. If all the petty annoyances were getting to him, Jack was making a mighty effort to hide it. His face remained impassive, even as he was humiliated in front of his own people.

"Jack, would you like a drink?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, thankyou, honored guest." He figured he was safe accepting an offer from a guest, even though Keyna rarely allowed him food or drink during the day. Jack took the proffered cup and drank deeply, happy to be annoying Keyna.

At one point, Keyna noticed Daniel's thoughtful stare as Jack performed yet another embarrassing trick. "You do not use such mundane tasks to teach your mayra?" he asked.

"Um, no," Daniel replied honestly. "I think he would have killed me if I tried to make him do that."

*You got that right, Danny boy,* Jack thought. He was hanging on every word, aware that Keyna was trying to trick him into disobeying. His commands were becoming very subtle, and any minor mistake would bring down punishment. He thought again of his mistake, his one huge fatal blunder. He had been turned loose in the evenings with the other mayree. Had talked to various other inmates, trying to get ideas about a way out, guard levels, and such. Had otherwise pretty much kept to himself and been left alone.

Then he did it.

He had stopped a bully from picking on a smaller kid, even taught the little one a couple moves to defend himself. Keyna, or his people, had seen him do it. Knew then what his weakness was; innocents, the weak, children. And then they had him. Lock, stock, and barrel. Keyna promptly gave up all the other creative punishments that had so far been ineffective and switched to basic abuse. Of the kids. If Jack made the tiniest slip-up, the smallest child handy would be cruelly attacked before his eyes. He would be forced to watch, to hear the child's piteous cries, unable to stop it, unable to help. He'd pleaded for mercy – once – and had earned a second correction for speaking without permission. For the rest, he'd watched silently as the victims were told it was all his fault, that he'd carelessly disobeyed and made it happen. Keyna wouldn't heal the wounds for a day or even longer, to prolong the event and inflame the adult mayree against him. That had half back-fired, though Keyna hadn't realized it. It wasn't long before the parents switched from simple revenge beatings to drilling him on every detail of behavior at night in order to reduce the number of corrections he earned from Keyna. He never would have learned so fast without them, and he couldn't blame worried parents for correcting him with fists instead of words. They'd considered killing him, but the penalties were frighteningly dramatic for that, and the kids were being healed.

The kids.

He fingered the leash, sliding his fingers over the stones; they were set in pairs specifically to remind him of the eyes of each child that had suffered for his mistakes. When he'd tried to look away from the first attack, Keyna had demanded that he look the victim in the eye until the end, and later commemorated each event by having Jack choose a pair of eye-colored stones for the leash. He remembered every child, every set of pain-filled eyes. The first two were blue, for the eyes of the first child, the one he had saved from the bully and who had been beaten savagely as a warning to Jack to obey. He slid his hand along, remembering each child as if their eyes really were staring reproachfully out at him. The colors varied from light to dark, blue to green, as randomly as Keyna had chosen victims. There was one amber pair for the unfortunate boy who had been used for a particularly dramatic punishment just because his eyes were brown like Jack's. He came to a section with several sapphire pairs in a row, a token of his failed attempt at suicide; Keyna had deliberately selected children with matching dark blue eyes to be sure Jack's leash would provide a visual reminder that there was no escape, not even death. Or anything else – Keyna had assured him that if he, Jack, were to run away, a child would be beaten to death each day until his return. And, if anything were to befall Keyna, the other guild handlers knew his rules and would enforce them. Oh, yes, they had him this time.

His wandering thoughts were his downfall. Daniel handed him a piece of fruit and he said "thanks."

Jack stiffened, a look of absolute horror on his face.

Keyna smiled, a wide slow grin. "There will be punishment for that, Mayra."

Jack seemed to deflate, head bowed, shoulders sagging.

"I don't understand," Daniel said. "What did he do?"

"Tell him what you did, mayra," Keyna ordered; if the slave didn't know, he would not be told.

"Keyna gave me leave to answer your questions, honored guest. Not to speak on my own." Jack looked absolutely sick as he said it.

He was going to be punished just for saying 'thankyou'? Daniel realized then that the pair had been playing a twisted version of Simon Says. Jack must do exactly what Simon -- Keyna -- said. No more and no less. Or else. Or else *what*? Hoping he read his friend correctly, Daniel leaned back, casually sipping his drink, and said "I thought that transgressions in front of a guest were to be corrected in front of the guest?"

Keyna frowned. He wanted to punish the impudent mayra, needed to use each of the few slips the cunning mayra made to reinforce his training. But he could not disclose guild secrets before the outsider. Not to mention that this particular secret wouldn't win him any friends if he shared it. He'd had to go further than ever before to find something to control this one, too far most would say. He sighed. "Very well. But as a spectator sport, his punishment must be other than I had planned. Something mundane."

Jack held very still, hoping.

Keyna called a young mayra child over. Jack didn't so much as breathe as he waited to hear Keyna's command. Keyna ordered the child to bring his multi-stranded whip. The barbed one. The child paled, and ran off on his errand. "We will have to settle for a simple beating. Unless you'd prefer not to see him punished before you?" Keyna looked at Daniel hopefully. The man had been squeamish about physical punishment; Keyna had chosen something messy in hopes the guest would decline to see it and let him have his own way.

Considering Jack's reaction as well as Keyna's, Daniel opted to see the beating. At the news, Keyna sat back as if disappointed while Jack straightened and looked almost smug. Wow, Daniel thought, the alternative must be horrendous if Jack looks pleased about a cat o' nine tails.

Jack realized the fruit was still lying half-off his nerveless hand. He wanted to crush it, or throw the now-hateful thing far from him, but he dared not incur a second punishment. Keyna would not be so foolish as to gloat in front of Daniel again.

He forced his unwilling fingers to close gently around the fruit and raised it slightly. With his other hand he reached for a thimble-sized vial on the serving tray.

Keyna took the small container from him. "This fruit is bitter enough already, is it not, Mayra?"

"Yes, Keyna," he answered dully.

"What is that?" Daniel pointed to the small object, which looked like a small salt shaker to him.

"What is your former master's word for this, Mayra?"

"Strychnine, Keyna."

"But that's poison!" Daniel objected.

Keyna smiled a bit. "Small amounts merely cause cramps and muscle spasms. Painful, but not lethal."

"What do you do use it for?"

He looked disdainfully down at his unwillingly obedient slave. "The Mayra has finally learned to avoid punishment, but he still makes no attempt to please. He has not earned even the simple reward of enjoying a meal." Keyna sighed. "However, he must be fed." He sounded disappointed. "Sprinkling," he paused as he recalled the guests' word, "strick-nine on his food allows him to eat but ensures that he will have little pleasure from it. He shakes a bit on every morsel."

*Or else,* Jack finished for him in bitter silence. Put it on the food or be punished. Demonstrate sufficient muscle stiffness and spasms afterwards or be punished for using too little. Vomit and be punished for using too much. He remembered standing on wobbly legs before Keyna, struggling to keep the poison in, swallowing back his vomit while the bastard laughed.

"But it's poison!" Carter echoed in disbelief.

Keyna looked annoyed. "This amount is not enough to kill him, accidentally or otherwise. Should he ingest this entire vial, his muscles would be stiff as a board and quake with the most painful of tremors. But he will not die. See for yourself. Mayra!"

Jack looked at Keyna, and with difficulty allowed the thrown vial to smack him in the face and fall to the ground. Keyna had called for his attention, not told him to catch it. He saw Keyna's expression flicker and knew the man had been trying to trick him. On the other side, Daniel tensed; clearly afraid that Jack had just committed another transgression.

"Consume it all, Mayra."

Jack promptly picked up the vial and began vigorously shaking the contents into the palm of his hand. Maybe this would make up for speaking, he thought hopefully.

"No!"

Jack ignored Daniel's protest and shook the bottle harder. *Let this be enough to satisfy Keyna,* he silently wished.

"Stop, Mayra." Keyna turned to Daniel, not even bothering to check whether Jack obeyed. "Discipline of a mayra can be unpleasant, honored guest, especially in the early days. Would you prefer that I retired and administered his usual correction in private?"

Daniel hesitated, his gaze shifting between the anticipatory Keyna and the frozen Jack before making his decision. "I'd hate for you to waste all the strychnine, or to have to leave. Isn't there something else that can be done?"

The child returned, handing the object nervously to Keyna. The handler slapped the whip gently in his palms, watching the child's eyes widen. After a moment, he sent the child away, much to the kid's relief. The youngster sprinted away at top speed, dodging out of sight at the first opportunity.

"Stand up, Mayra."

Jack stood.

"Come before me, Mayra."

Jack did as he was bidden and stood before him, unafraid. This he could handle. It wouldn't be any fun, of course, but it was a damn sight better than the alternative.

Keyna saw the man standing calmly there and felt his own anger rising. A simple beating would not cow this one, he knew that, but he had few options in front of the baron and the outsiders. He had to force a reaction from the mayra, make him acknowledge who was master, and precious little he had tried had done so. He rose, walked slowly around his victim, sliding the whip against the man's still bare chest and back for effect. The mayra flinched not at all, further enraging the handler. He stopped in front of the mayra. Used the whip to raise Jack's chin. Jack kept his eyes lowered, not having been told to look up.

"Look at me, Mayra."

Jack looked him in the eye, still showing no fear that Keyna could see. But Keyna wanted him to be afraid. Would love to see him cry out for mercy. Had a thought on how to get his wish.

"The mayra is strong, honored guest. See how he does not fear me, even as he knows he is about to experience great pain at my hands? But a punishment should be something to be feared, should it not? So that the mayra would rather obey?"

Jack was getting concerned, and rather hoped it showed, to appease Keyna.

Keyna smiled. It wasn't a pretty sight. "Let us see if we can make our friend here take notice. Ten lashes."

Jack relaxed just a bit. That didn't sound tooo bad. All he had to do, after all, was not run away. The rest would just... happen.

"With his arms raised horizontally."

Ok, harder, but still do-able.

Keyna looked him in the eye, leaning close. "If you lower your arms so much as an inch, mayra, we will start over again. Until you obey and accept your punishment as ordered."

Jack was scared now. He didn't think he could do it. Didn't think anyone could.

Keyna chuckled. "I see we have your attention now, mayra." Perhaps this would be it, he thought hopefully, perhaps being forced to attempt the impossible over and over again would break the stubborn mayra. He anticipated the moment when the mayra would beg him in earnest, call him master, surrender completely to end the pain.

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" Daniel objected.

"A punishment must be something to be feared. This one has repeatedly demonstrated that he requires lessons which are somewhat ... intense." He stroked Jack with the whip. Was pleased to feel him tremble. Jackson himself shuddered to think of what kind of intense lessons his friend may have been subjected to.

"You'll kill him!"

Keyna shook his head. "The healing drugs we were discussing can be used on the Mayra. He can be kept not only alive but alert until he obeys." He noted with satisfaction that Jack had gone pale at the news- his earlier games were paying off handsomely.

"This will make a fine demonstration for our honored guests," the baron agreed happily. "You will see," he assured Daniel, leaning over and patting him on the knee, "the drug is most effective. And can be used repeatedly no matter how long this," he waved a hand dismissively at Jack, "takes."

Carter couldn't let this go on. "Why don't you do whatever your other punishment was?" Even as she said it, she saw Jack shake his head *no.*

Keyna saw, too, and laughed. "You see, honored guest? He is frightened now, but still he prefers this. You are coddling him, to allow him a choice. This is why we need not resort to beatings, since our other techniques are much more effective!" he said triumphantly.

With disbelief, Daniel wondered what on earth would rank worse than this? He said as much aloud.

Keyna smiled smugly and didn't answer.

"Jack, er, Mayra? " Daniel prompted, remembering that the man had told Jack to answer him. Besides, any time spent talking was time *not* spent beating his friend.

"Yes, honored guest?"

"What has Keyna been doing to you?"

A slight pause as he worked out an answer. "Teaching me to behave like the mayree, honored guest."

"And if you don't?"

"There is punishment, honored guest."

"Worse than this?"

"Yes, honored guest." The tone of his voice was not something the others would soon forget. Carter closed her eyes briefly. Teal'c had had enough practice with Apophis to keep any reaction from showing, but the strength with which he squeezed his pretend-wife's hand spoke of his anger. This confirmed Morgan's assertion about the level of control O'Neill was under. Perhaps it was the distraction of his thoughts, or perhaps he forgot that Daniel Jackson had not heard what he had from Calla about training methods being secret. One way or the other, he did not interrupt before Daniel spoke again.

"What could be worse?"

Jack hesitated, torn between the requirement to answer and the prohibition against telling. That was part of the "welcome lecture" all slaves received upon capture – speaking of their training to any but a handler was considered the worst sort of profanity, and was immediately punishable by any handler or civilian or soldier who heard. They kept their dirty world of slave training to themselves.

Keyna smirked, awaiting the answer.

The baron laughed. "Come, Keyna, surely one such punishment in a day is enough." He raised one hand in the gesture of a casual request.

Keyna turned toward the Baron, hands already moving into the 'X' shape that indicated a suggestion was being rejected. There would be no mercy today.

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked the Baron.

"Keyna ordered him to answer your questions, and so he must, or face further punishment. But to reveal guild secrets of discipline to outsiders is strictly forbidden and would bring down a severe penalty itself," the baron explained. He went on to tell him that guild techniques were well guarded. Handlers never even shared methods with each other, let alone with outsiders.

"Never?" Daniel asked.

It only took a split second for the thoughts to race through Jack's head. Keyna had lied – the other handlers did not know his rules! He could kill Keyna, here and now, and no kid would ever be hurt again as part of Jack's "training." If he was lucky, he'd die himself a moment later at the hands of Baron Honna's guards. If he wasn't, well, no matter what they did to him, it had to be better than watching innocent kids get hurt. SG-1 wouldn't be held responsible since they were not his "owners" at the moment. His only regret would be that he couldn't thank them for ending Keyna's unbearable torture.

"Never," the baron cheerfully confirmed.

Jack moved, and Keyna was dead before he hit the ground.

There was a moment of shock, with stunned looks on every face but Keyna's. The handler still held that last smirk.

Jack straightened, extending his arms in surrender, not intending to resist any response because it might put SG-1 at risk.

The Baron roared for his guards, unnecessarily, since they were already rushing forward from the distant sides of the big hall. Teal'c was next to respond. He pointed an arm toward the main group of guards, and unleashed his siege weapon. Carter was only a heartbeat behind, using her weapon to take out the guards approaching from the other side. Daniel, having never seen a bare-handed instant-kill like that, let alone one executed by his friend, was still only a moment behind in raising his weapon.

Seeing that the fight was on, Jack leapt forward, capturing the Baron's neck in the crook of one strong arm and warning Blenna and Quinna that they had already seen him kill and he could easily do it again.

Blenna froze, hands held out in front of him where they were visible.

Quinna straightened, trying to retain her leadership demeanor. "What do you want?"

"Safe passage. We're leaving."

She blinked, as if surprised by the minimal request. "Very well." She moved to the door, picking her way around rubble and former parts of her guards, and Jack waved Blenna along in front before tugging Honna forward.

The door burst open before they reached it, and several people spilled in, no doubt coming as a result of the weapon blasts. Jack repeated his warning, supported by Quinna's orders and Keyna's corpse, and they all backed away against the walls.

The little group – SG-1, Honna, Quinna, and Blenna – edged through, and started down the hall, closing the door on the others.

"Gonzalez, tell us if anyone follows or comes near without being seen."

"Sure!" the excited little voice answered.

Teal'c and Daniel exchanged a look, not sure they'd heard right. Carter grinned and nodded. Gonzalez proudly put his head up to sniff, ears swiveling like tiny radar. Blenna, who'd been rolling his eyes at the ridiculous idea of giving such a command, eyed the animal dubiously when it seemed to respond.

They moved to the outer door without incident. Quinna led the way to the steps, kicking a mayra child and cleaning bucket off of them without so much as a glance.

Jack paused, looking as the girl stifled a sob and blotted her heavily bleeding nose. She didn't dare to look up or object. How well he knew that feeling! How well all the mayree knew it!

On the other side of Honna, unable to see the child, Daniel's hand gave his elbow a tug.

"I don't think I can do this."

Everyone stared. Except the child, who crouched, head down, hoping for them all to go away.

Quinna's expression turned triumphant, as if it were a credit to their slave training that the mayree wouldn't go through with his escape.

"I don't think I can leave the mayree like this."

The End.


End file.
